Absolution
by Sweet-rush37
Summary: a sort of companion piece to 'Memories of rain'
1. Tears falling from heaven

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan... just in case you guys were wondering.  
  
Title: Absolution  
  
Chapter 1: Tears falling from heaven  
  
It wasn't suppose to be like this, this wasn't the fairy tale ending she had fantasized about as a little girl, laying on her four post bed, sunlight gathering in pools on the baby blue bed spread, The happy ending that every little girl dreams about.  
  
Blood drenched down her green dress, it dried in her chocolate hair, her hands shook as she stared numbly into the wall, she wanted it to go away, disappear in the night as quickly as humanly possible. She fell to the ground, legs curled under her, tears staining her pale face and damping her chin. The cold linoleum floor felt offhand on her bare legs, as she tried to focus on her bare feet, toenails all painted up lavender. Her hair was falling out of the simple bun that she had arranged for their special night, the night she would remember forever.  
  
He was protecting her from the world, sheltering her from the storm; he was the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, the expedition. Her russet eyes looked up, at the blinding white florescent lights that bordered the colorless hallway. It would have been her lying lifelessly on that table, and all knew it. She could no longer feel, she couldn't feel the sting in the bitter wind, nor the heat of the midday sun.  
  
Where was god now, Where were her angels, where was her hope now that her hero was gone. Who was going to bring her out of this hell that was swallowing her every thought and made her breath short and leaden. Outside the wind howled, screaming its challenge to the sky. She rocked back and forth, willing herself the control not to be sick in front of all these people, all these total strangers, doctors and nurses. She was quiet, deathly quiet, like the woods after a storm, no one spoke, no one moved. She wanted someone to be here, to hold her and tell her all would be fine, until now, that someone was him. She wanted to forget the last four years, make him fade from her memory, if she did, the pain would seize and her body would calm, and the terrified look locked into his frosty blue-green eyes would die away. She let her mind drift back to what started this mess; she had to go to the core of the torture.  
  
===============================================================  
  
Today was another day for Woody, called his mom, this time when she tried to nag him about not having a girlfriend, he was proud to inform her about his latest catch. Jordan Cavanaugh, his blossoming rose in the desert, sure he liked Boston, it was cold, and he got homesick sometimes but Jordan was worth all the patience and persistence, all the hoping and praying that she'd come around.  
  
When he lived in Kewaunee, he had always felt he needed something more, like a parasite needs a host, dreams need dreamers, which he had always been. He dreamed of making a life for himself, nothing glamorous, just something to call his. Then when he transferred to Boston, it was the perfect opportunity, get away from the awkwardness of living in a small town, especially after the blow out with Annie, and in Kewaunee, there were no secrets.  
  
He pulled out a legal pad, trying to focus on his work, a Homicide detective, not all it's cracked up to be, but he did enjoy the field work. The people he worked with were terrific, his own family away from family, and then there was Jordan. First they were nothing more than Co-workers, then friends, then best friends. Spending almost all of their outside time together, at the Pouge, at each others houses, going to movies. Then she decided to take the next step, what he had been hoping for. Rain dripped along the window, slowly winding its way down the pane, like tears falling from heaven.  
  
As he was about to right a note to his beloved Jordan on the neon yellow paper, his cell phone rang. Damned thing, always interrupting him at the moments he wanted to be alone.  
  
"Hoyt." He said groggily,  
  
"Homicide on 28th and Charles, get down here quick, it's a cop." The other voice said, then on an after note asked "Dear god Hoyt, are you still at the office, its two thirty in the morning?!" Woody had to laugh at this, since this whole Malden thing had happened he hadn't been sleeping well, it started with dreams, that when he busted down that red door that led to Jordan's apartment. It was her, crimson soaking her coffee colored hair in thick clumps, and staining her colorless skin, her father standing over her, gun limp in his hand, confusion and agony clear on his face. Then, he would awake, all sweaty and riddled with anxiety. With a sigh he picked up his car keys from the corner of his desk in which they rested, maybe Jordan was there, seeing her would reassure him the dream was not reality.  
  
Note: R&R but be gentle, should I continue? 


	2. In too deep

"Hey Woody!" Jordan could feel the heat rise about ten degrees when he slipped under the neon yellow crime scene tape. His suit was a bit wrinkled, dark circles formed under his eyes telling me he hadn't slept, his hair was wet from the rain that fell outside.  
  
"Hey Jo," he said tiredly, she stuck my bottom lip out piteously teasing him.  
  
"Aw, did baby have a bad day?" Jordan asked running a willowy hand down his arm. He wasn't in the mood for her teasing, but he wasn't in the mood for a fight either.  
  
"As a matter of fact, yes, Eddie called in sick, we've been shorthanded, I've had three homicides in the past twenty four hours, and to top it all off I have a mountain of paperwork and my cereal was soggy!" he complained, holding her hand for comfort. He liked holding her hand, when his calloused hand swallowed her slender one, she just fit.  
  
It had taken a lot for him to make Jordan realize she loved him, and it took her being kidnapped for him to realize that he couldn't live without her. It was that simple, if she wasn't breathing, neither was he.  
  
"Well, mama's gonna have to make today all better." She whispered in his ear seductively, lightly tracing his jawbone with her slender finger. That was it, that, enigma that surrounded her, the riddle, it was the sadness that has been thinning out across her face like a spreading stain for so long, now he saw it was disappearing, a new Jordan was emerging from the ashes of her past. She was laughing, the circles that had plagued the soft underbelly of her eyes was diminishing slowly but surely.  
  
"Can we please keep the public displays of affection down to a minimum please we have a crime scene to process." Garret snapped playfully, Woody blushed, he wasn't used to the teasing, well except Jordan, but that was mostly 'So, you used to feel up cows?' comments when he was explaining what a joy it was to get up at four O'clock in the morning.  
  
"Right!" Woodrow announced, blushing eight shades of red. It made Jordan smile, he was shy, it was sexy, funny she never found shy appealing. "What do we got?" he asked clearing his throat nervously.  
  
"Jennifer O'Brian, 24, four years out of the academy, already on her way to being on homicide." Jordan stated as Woody lifted the white sheet, blood drenched the middle area, where Jennifer was shot, Woody whitened.  
  
"What's the matter Wood? Know her?" he nodded mutely, covering his mouth with a hand.  
  
"Yeah, we worked a stakeout together around two years ago, nice kid." He whispered, Jordan couldn't help feeling concerned, she scratched her neck fretfully.  
  
"Gee, Hun, maybe you shouldn't work the case if you have a relationship with the decedent." He shook his head vigorously.  
  
"No, I didn't know her that well, I can handle it, she just..." he allowed his voice to trail off.  
  
"She was in trouble with the IA." Garret said, holding up and evidence bag that held a file. "Are little girl was a dirty cop, found this over there." Garret pointed to an area marked off.  
  
"Who found her?" Woody asked shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
"Maid, came in and found her, liver temp suggests she's been dead for over twelve hours,"  
  
"You guys better come and look at this!" Nigel exclaimed, waving a hand. "Seems that she was doing a little booger sugar, cocaine and lots of it." For where Nigel stood, in front of a glass table laced with a fine sheet of white substance, a few pictures of the decedent with a unidentified male and a credit card were strewn over the table.  
  
"I'm going to find out who that is, Jordan, Nigel, Garret do what you guys do best." He wasn't sure why, he had a hunch, Jennifer had seemed like the girl who would always do the right thing, not a dirty cop, not the Malden type, his hunch, he was already in this, way too deep. 


	3. runaway train

Woody sat at his desk, balled up pieces of paper and paper coffee cups were strewn about, he staring blankly into the computer screen, his finger slamming the enter key over and over. As he was about to give up the idea of finding her name in the IA system when something popped up.  
  
"What have we got here?" he asked himself, perking up. "Jennifer O'Brian was charged with assaulting a suspect but later cleared of the charges... Jennifer O'Brian testifies against dirty cop... Thomas Shelton, whoa, Jordan's going to wanna hear this." He read aloud to himself raising his voice an octave so he could hear over the din of the rain tapping on the window loudly, and then he saw it. "Murder on 28th and Charles. Mike Freedmen, 32, Police Officer from the fifth precinct shot by perp in cheap hotel during raid, other officers were, Rodger Tandy, Thomas Shelton, Eddie Jansen, Harry Smith and Jennifer O'Brian." He felt like he couldn't breathe, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, from the smell of it this was dangerous.  
  
He walked quickly down the well lit hallway towards autopsy. He never should have left Wisconsin, there are no dirty cops in Wisconsin, well, not in Kewaunee at least, he amended. Jordan was in autopsy with O'Brian herself, her hair pulled back, in simple blue scrubs, latex gloved hands covered with scarlet blood. This was when he loved her most, watching her do what she loves the most, cutting up dead people.  
  
"Hey Babe, please tell me that you have something for me?" it was more of a demand than a question. She smiled, he was nervous, a look of edginess was glued to his adorable face, she had to smile.  
  
"Well, I'm waiting for the tox screens but, she was shot once with a 38, more specifically with her own gun." She peeled off her gloves and turned to him, smiling she leaned over for a kiss, he obliged. "Let me clean up, and we'll go get some breakfast, then catch a nap and question some of her fellow officers from the fifth.  
  
As she pushed threw the double doors of the locker room she smiled. She had been dating Woody for a month now, it was great, but as she was becoming more comfortable, he was becoming antsier, not sleeping and when he did, he would wake up in the middle of the night, his face warm and sticky with sweat. It was like their roles were reversed, she was comforting him instead of the other way around.  
  
She stripped of the soiled scrubs, and dressed in her buckskin colored, tight in all the right places jeans and white top. Still she couldn't remove Woody from her mind. He had been her rock, her strength, the one person who wouldn't let her run away, she pushed him away, and he shoved back.  
  
Outside, the wind was raw from the ocean air, it wept and wailed as it gust threw the lit up city of Boston, a snow storm was on its way, she could smell it on the crisp air. She used to love the snow; the way it swirled and danced threw the gun barrel gray sky. She remembered when she was little; she would stand out in her front yard, catching big fat flakes on her tongue, now snow was nothing but an inconvenience, a big, cold, inconvenience.  
  
Woody was waiting in a chair near the elevator, resting his head against the wall. He wasn't sure what caused the dreams to suddenly appear after nearly six months, all he could really remember anything except look plastered onto her lifeless face, all pallid and grey, her look of shock, and the fear. The fear was the worst; he felt it rise in his throat until it was as tangible as his hands, and when he woke up in the morning all he was concerned about was making sure she was safe.  
  
When she immerged from the locker room, she looked beautiful in her simple white top and tan jeans. It was amazing how she could throw on anything and look incredible.  
  
"Hi" he said standing up, holding out a hand for her to take.  
  
"Hi" she repeated, taking his outstretched hand and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.  
  
"Piggyback ride?" she asked playfully, he ducked down so she could hop on his back and drape her arms around his neck. She was so light, like a feather, he spun around lightheartedly, as they made their way down the shaded hallway, to the elevator, she giggled, a childish, happy giggle.  
  
As the elevator chimed and the doors opened shining its light down the darkened corridor. 


	4. The Fifth Element

When Jordan awoke, Woody was sleeping, mumbling lightly to himself. She petted his hair tenderly, like he was a kitten. He tossed and turned a lot, she had to practically force feed him a doughnut that morning. She drove him home and they fell asleep together on his bed. She yawned wide and threw a sideways glance to the clock 7:30 they had been asleep for about three hours, due at work in two hours, she sighed, and it'll be two hours and five minutes before Garret realizes that she wasn't at work. Woody had a pager, he could sleep, and he needed it. She slipped out from under the covers and started to dress.  
  
When those elevator doors opened Garret was waiting for her patiently. "Jordan you're an hour late." He tapped his watch for emphasis "your due in Autopsy two, the DA wants to know what we got."  
  
Jordan was never fond of the DA, and that was an understatement. She had railroaded Woody in the Cynthia Montgomery case and almost had him convicted. She was willing to put up with her for only one reason, she was Garret's girlfriend.  
  
Renee Walcott stood looking at the face of the fallen officer, creamy Carmel colored hair, she was thin but well built, and a beauty mark graced the right side of her neck. She didn't look like a dirty cop; she looked like she should be out, partying with friends or riding the escalator at the mall. The doors burst open and Jordan appeared at the side of Garret.  
  
"Nice of you to show up." She said staunchly to Jordan, tapping her heel against the linoleum floor. "I need to know what you've got so far."  
  
"Well, her tox screens haven't come in yet, Nigel's on them now, we found bruising that's consistent with a restriction of some sort, and some residue on her hands, Bug's on those." Renee' sighed, "Okay, well, if you get anything else you will let me know." With that she was gone, and Garret stood watching the double doors swinging.  
  
"Hoyt." Woody announced at the ringing cell phone, It was Jordan, it was always pleasant to here her voice, especially after this morning, when he woke up, she wasn't there to reassure him that the dream was just that, a dream.  
  
"Hey Farm boy, I just thought you would want to know we got the results of her tox screens before wicked witch Walcott gets her slimy paws on them, she was negative for all drugs, and get this... she was pregnant."  
  
He smiled, she made him smile, and the warm sensation in his stomach rose to his chest. It was hard to explain, that feeling, he never felt it with Annie, that was more of an attraction than love, he thought to himself, and with Jordan, he felt something real, something spiritual.  
  
"Thanks Baby girl, listen you want to come with me to question some of the cops down at The Fifth?" he could tell she wouldn't think about it.  
  
"Sure I'll meet you there." She said without hesitation picking up her purse and keys off of her desk.  
  
"Alright so she was going to testify against Thomas Shelton, apparently he beat on a perp pretty bad, put him in the hospital with a broken rib, she saw it all." Woody stated as they walked threw the revolving doors into the fifth precinct.  
  
"Hi, I'm Detective Hoyt from the twentieth, this is Jordan Cavanaugh with the ME's office, we're here to talk to Officer Shelton please." He asked as she led them into a office a lot like Woody's not shabby but not bad either.  
  
Thomas Shelton was a hardened Police Officer, with Boston PD for almost thirteen years, promoted years ago, although after the incident was shamed into desk work. Jordan wasn't expecting a man of his age; he was around forty, blonde hair, looked more like a football coach than a police officer it made her think.  
  
"What can I do for you detective?" he asked innocently, Woody could smell dirty from this guy.  
  
"I'm sure you've heard about Jennifer O'Brian, murdered last night." Woody got to the point, he didn't like the good ole boy, keep to the code type cops, gave him the willies, the only code that he followed was the law, and it was good enough for him.  
  
Jordan stood next to Woody, proud of her man; that was weird. To think of Woody as anything more than a friend was difficult and she was still fighting off the 'he's only a friend' image that she had held onto for so long.  
  
"Yeah, sad, she was a good kid." Woody gave a smirk  
  
"She was testifying against you." Woody retorted with a stubborn tone, he wasn't backing down, the thing he hated most was a dirty cop. "That gives you motive, now I'll have to ask where you were in-between the hours of four and seven Tuesday morning?"  
  
"I was home, asleep next to my wife, now if you'll excuse me I have a mountain of paperwork." With that he straightened, it was then Jordan realized he was a good head taller than Woody, she swallowed hard.  
  
Just as Woody was about to turn and walk out she noticed a young cop watching them, her emerald eyes filled with a look of remorse and pain, she nodded for Jordan to come over to where she was sitting at her desk, papers and files scattered around the famika top.  
  
"My name is Caitlyn Turner, I know something about Jenny, I can't talk about it here." she whispered, pressing a piece of paper into her hand. "Meet me here, twelve thirty." She looked down at the report she was filing, dismissing Jordan and Woody.  
  
"What do you think she knows?" Woody asked once they reached the crisp outside, Woody opened his umbrella and wrapped an arm around Jordan's waist.  
  
"Probably what that slime ball did to Jennifer O'Brian." Jordan stated leaning into Woody as they strolled over to the white ford explorer.  
  
They spotted her as soon as they walked threw the threshold of the small café' littered with people searching for somewhere to go to get out of the cold. She was staring out the window, stirring her coffee idly, her dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail, she was still in uniform.  
  
"Miss Turner." Woody waved, following Jordan into the booth.  
  
"Alright, you have to promise that none of this goes on record and no one finds out it was me who leaked this." She demanded, Woody nodded  
  
"I think we can do that." He said, "now what do you know?" he asked looking in her eyes searching for the answer in the dull green.  
  
"She was threatening them, and they killed her like a dog." Her voice was filled with grief and rage.  
  
"Who'd she threaten?" Jordan asked softly.  
  
"Who didn't she threaten, she knew all of there secrets, the commissioner, Police Chief, Governor, it's an elite club, a gentlemen's society, The Boston Ring, they protect their own. Money laundering, falsified reports, falsified evidence... murder, torturing suspects to get confessions, innocent people have been executed because they want a case over with or guilty people got out. Jansen and Shelton we're friends with the Police Chief, they're a part of The Ring, and let's just say, it wasn't the suspect that killed Officer Freedmen." She stumbled over her words, trying in vain to catch her breath.  
  
Jordan felt the security that she felt being pushed out from under her. If this was true, she was going to have hell.  
  
"The suspect, Allen Rodriguez was Freedmen's contact on a cocaine bust; the buyer was none other than the Police Chief."  
  
"Why would the Chief buy cocaine?" Woody asked, his mind racing, all this was bringing up questions instead of answers.  
  
"For his high priced parties, he paid a lot of people off, not only in money, also in coke and heroin." She finished "If anyone finds out that I'm even affiliated with anyone who has knowledge of this, I'm dead, literally... Shelton and Jansen are slime balls, they murdered Freedmen and Jennifer, they're powerful, and if you challenge them they will kill you."  
  
Footnote: This may be a little hard to believable, remember that this is just coming out of my head, I'm writing as I go, so it may be a little cheesy. 


	5. Twas' the night

Disclaimer: I thought I should update you all on the fact that I don't own Crossing Jordan and never will, so you have no excuse to sue me.  
  
She loved Boston at night, all glittery and carefree, and at Christmas time, houses sparkled with Christmas lights, streetlamps were covered with garlands, shops were all lit up, and smelled of hot chocolate and cinnamon. Crisp evening air seeped through her jacket biting down to her very bones. Woody held her gloved hand tenderly as they strolled down the street bags of presents in toe, pausing in front of windows to look casually at the goods they offered.  
  
Her hair lightly swayed in the wind, she was all wrapped in her coat and scarf, her high heel boots clicking against the icy sidewalk. Children were laughing and playing, people crowded the sidewalks. They didn't talk much, they seemed comfortable in silence.  
  
"Look at this!" Woody chuckled, pointing to a leather S&M outfit in a store.  
  
"That screams Nigel." She stated, laughing as they went on. She leaned into Woody for support, he swathed her shoulders with an arm. "So are you going to Jennifer O'Brian's memorial service tomorrow?" she asked casually, pausing to feign interest in a shirt on a sales rack.  
  
He hadn't thought about that, he did know her, but her memorial service? Snow had turned to slush in the street, mixing with mud and salt. Jordan was peeking in a window, looking at a watch. "I never really thought about it Babe, do you think I should go?" Jordan looked him in his frosty blue eyes, they were like diamonds all sparkling and lustrous lately they had dulled; they were filled with worry and what looked like resentment.  
  
"If you want to." Was all she said, even though she wanted to say more, she held her tongue, that had gotten her in more trouble than she needed right now, she wasn't in the mood to argue.  
  
Something in that statement made him blink, it was as if she was dismissing him, he shook it off, it was probably his overactive imagination. Since the dreams started he couldn't think straight, he was almost in a dream-like state half the time. He could never shake the image of her pallid face, a look of pure panic and horror, her hair matting in the black blood, making her face look even more pale. He often wondered if he was simply with Jordan to protect her, keep her from all anguish, but then he felt something. It was real, he could feel it in his heart, it was warm and soothing, it was patient and persistent and he followed it where ever it took him, at the end of the Journey, there was Jordan.  
  
Jordan wasn't sure what he was thinking about, half the time she didn't know what he was thinking about. She had run from love for so long, when she stopped she realized she had know where to go, there had always been a wall, keeping the demons at bay, keeping love at arms length. That wall was the only thing between her and self destruction Then Woody showed up, with his innocent charm and big, baby blue eyes. She fought it with every ounce of her being, putting that wall up was hard, harder than she ever expected, But he was persistent, and she didn't have a lot of patience.  
  
"I hope you don't have plans for Christmas Eve," He said pulling her gently along through the throng of people.  
  
"I was hoping to spend it with you." She said giving him a small peck on his cheek.  
  
"Good answer, cause I have a surprise." He said mysteriously, she stopped, she hated surprises, they nagged at her until she felt like she was gonna be sick with wanting to know, she hated the unknown, it was hard to explain, not tangible, she couldn't hold it in her hands, she couldn't feel it, they say ignorance is bliss not for Jordan. She had to know how everything worked, how it acted, she needed to explain it.  
  
"I don't know cowboy... I'm not good with surprises." She said hesitantly, he smiled a broad, silly grin.  
  
"Don't worry Joe; it's a very good surprise!" he pulled her along, she was loved Woody, there was absolutely no question about that, it was a new feeling, she wasn't sure how to handle feelings like love.  
  
"It takes a very secure man to walk like that." He stated pointing to a man that was sashaying down the side walk. Jordan chuckled and pulled him along.  
  
Woody unlocked his door, throwing his keys and mail on the table that sat next to the couch. He was tired, achy and tired two combinations that you should never combine; his eyelids felt heavy and his back throbbed.  
  
He pulled his shoes and socks off before roaming his fridge for any leftover food he might find, finding a to-go box of Chinese he settled in front of the TV, laying on the couch. Nothing much was on, a re-run of friends, a Elvis Costello concert. He finally settled on fear factor, not his favorite show, he didn't like bugs.  
  
Just before sleep found his eyes he noticed the number 3 blinking on his answering machine, he leaned far over to press the little button 'play.'  
  
"Hey Woodrow! This is Cal; I bet you're out with Jordan right now? I can't believe you find cut up dead people a turn on, Yeah well, I called to tell you I met somebody, and... I, uh, I need four hundred dollars... I promise..."Woody pressed erase before it even finished, he remembered the last time that he had lent his wayward brother money, seven years ago, never saw it again.  
  
"Hi Hun, this is mom, call me, I want to discuss you're new... situation, anyways I love you sweetheart, merry Christmas." He couldn't help but letting out a groan, his mother had this Gutanamo Bay style of interrogating, you know the kind, the kind where you want to confess just to end the torture.  
  
"Detective Hoyt, this is Allen Rodriguez, I need to meet with you as soon as possible... I think I know who killed Jenny." 


	6. T Line

Woody listened to the buzzer go off that signaled admittance to the visitation room. He spotted Allen Rodriguez immediately; prison tattoos covered his tan skin, tall, dark eyes. Woody sat across from him, pulling out a tape recorder he set it gently down on the worn, white table.  
  
"Morning Mister Rodriguez. I'm Detective Hoyt, call me Woody." He announced, looking the man over, he was young, very young, he was surprised.  
  
"Call me Allen," was all the man said eyeing Woody darkly. "I think I know who killed Jennifer." Woody perked up; either the guy was a genius or a complete idiot.  
  
"Who?" Woody asked his voice shaking slightly, this courage thing was harder than it looked.  
  
"Officer Jansen and Tandy Killed Freedmen, she was working with me to prove it. She got the help of the other officer, Officer Smith, she was sure that he could help, trusted him fully, if you want my expert opinion I'd say they were sweet on each other." He stopped for a deep breath. "Anyways four days ago she comes by to see me, all scared like, says she knows who killed Officer Freedmen and she could prove it. Two days later she's dead, in the same cheap motel as the raid, she said she could trace it up to the big man himself, Chief Haralson." Woody took in a deep cleansing breathe, that was just what he didn't want to hear.  
  
"She told me that if Officer Smith came by tell him to meet her at the T-Line, on Tuesday; I'm not sure what that is..." Allen sighed, "She was good people, get the bastard that did this to her." Woody groaned; Jennifer was smart; she didn't leave much of a trail.  
  
"Anything else Allen? Like could you tell me who killed her?" he asked biting his lip, he wished he had his Prozac now, he needed his Prozac and a soothing cup of tea, maybe a lemon.  
  
"You Okay Mister H?" Allen asked a disturbed look in his eyes that brought Woody back to his senses.  
  
"Yeah Mister Rodriguez, fine." He said shutting the tape recorder off and standing.  
  
"Anyways I have my bets on the Chief and his Goon's." he said, sucking on a cigarette.  
  
"Thanks, if I get anything new I'll tell you... promise." Woody murmured  
  
Woody unlocked his car with that remote unlocky thingy, he had never been gladder for that remote thingy. As he was about to get inside of his Black Escalade, he noticed it. Three parked SUV's, four men in neat black suits were watching him, casually lounging against the big trucks. He felt a fear well up threw him, crackling like lightning, he knew who they were. It was funny how he had come to do good, find the bad guy, now the bad guy was the one who was supposed to be the good guy was the bad guy, it was all very confusing.  
  
"Detective Hoyt, I represent the interest of some very important men." The tallest one said sinisterly, Woody noticed the baseball bat that was jammed nonchalantly in his right hand, he smiled. "I understand you're investigating the murder of Jennifer O'Brian." He asked, he looked like, as Jordan would say, an oil slick in a suit, all smooth and greasy looking. His black hair was slicked back with pomade, he teeth were an unnatural white, almost glowing against his tanned skin, But it was his stature that made Woody swallow hard, he was like a refrigerator with a head on it.  
  
"Might be." Woody stated bravely, he didn't come to Boston to be pushed around by a Joe Montana look-a-like.  
  
"Well, I am here to advise you," he took a step closer to Woody, the smell of cheap beer and tobacco was on his breath. "Not to go along with the case." He just had to tap the headlight of Woody's car, it shattered. "After all, wouldn't want anything to happen to your pretty ME... what's her name.... Jordan Cavanaugh?" he asked shouldering past Woody another man, a little smaller in stature, walked past as well, keying his car as they walked past. All Woody could think was 'damned that was a new car!' he groaned as he watched them load into their big, shiny cars.  
  
He almost ran down the corridor to Nigel's office, and when he saw the lanky Brit sitting at his desk he could have hugged him.  
  
"Nigel, please tell me you have something for me, please, I don't have a lot of time and I need to sit." He slumped into the vinyl chair, pausing for a breath.  
  
"Calm down Woodrow, I come bearing credit reports, apparently she has a taste for steak dinners and train tickets... bought a ticket for the five thirty train on tuesday..."  
  
"Train... the T-Line... I think I know where she was going, there's a stop at the T-Line water plant... she was going to meet him." He whispered to himself. He stood up, thoughts running threw his head, he could feel rage course threw him, It was one thing to threaten him, they threatened Jordan. He was beginning to pace, Nigel watched him with confusion... often he wondered about Jordan's farm boy, sometimes he wondered if he was all there.  
  
"What are you talking about?" he asked, watching Woody fall back into the chair, breathing hard, Woody had yet to tell Jordan that he went to visit Rodriguez, he didn't want her to come along, it was getting to dangerous, he also had yet to notice her standing in the doorway.  
  
"I went to see Allen Rodriguez...Jennifer O'Brian was having an affair with Officer Smith, who was the other officer at that raid... she was suppose to meet him Tuesday at the T-Line, that's all I can tell you, I need everything, credit statements, autopsy reports, the works... listen you can't tell Jordan, she'll freak out."  
  
Jordan smiled, he was keeping this from her, she knew why too. She had a nose for trouble, she'd go after the guy, and he'd have to save her ass once again. She was angry with him, yet she couldn't bring herself to blame him. Nigel's eyes focused on her, over Woody's shoulder... Woody knew what that meant; he winced and turned to meet Jordan's pretty face, she leaned against the wooden doorframe.  
  
"He didn't have to." She said merrily, too merrily.  
  
"Jordan"- he started to explain, she waved him off.  
  
"Its fine Farm Boy, I know, you can't trust me with this type of information, I'll go after him... and I could get hurt..." she took a deep breath, fighting with every ounce of her soul not to knee him in the groin, this trust thing was going to take some time and a whole lot of will power. He sighed, a world weary sigh, she saw that the circles had reappeared, his shoulders drooped. Nigel glanced at Jordan then at Woody, he saw the way Woody drifted in and out of that dream-like state. "I'm sorry Wood, I shouldn't of said that, I know that you're trying to protect me but I don't need protecting," the look in his eyes cut her short.  
  
"Jordan, I love you... so I say this as your friend, you boyfriend and also as the lead detective of this case... stay out of it Baby girl, please, these are very dangerous men, very powerful and very dangerous." She was surprised at the emotion in that 'please' and the way he took her face in his hands, the way his voice cracked, he was pleading with every scrap of soul... his eyes begged, searching for some sign that she would listen, it was like the kidnapping incident all over again, only he was searching inside of her core for some sign of trust.  
  
"Alright," she said finally, wrapping her arms around his neck, he laid his head on her shoulder, taking in the smell of vanilla.  
  
"Thank god... I thought that I was going to have to go to Garret." He said, relief evident in his voice. It was that, that trust that made her smile, he trusted her completely, even before they got together, he had that trust, the thing she didn't have... and he was willing to wait. Coaxing her softly, like a wild horse, that was always to spooked to come threw the gate... he left that gate open, waiting, hoping, and one day she had the courage to come through, he made no sudden movements, and softly bridled her... but never breaking her.  
  
She laughed at his tired joke, she could feel his heart against her chest, beating, slowly but it was beating... even though it was subdued and exhausted, it was still beating. 


	7. Angel standing By

He left Jordan in her apartment after her begging him to go home and get some sleep; he made her promise to lock her doors. Jordan was curled up on her futon/couch, with a box of Hagan Daaz, watching the discovery channel in her sweats, it was a new low.  
  
She was worried, a sick worry that left a raw feeling in her stomach. He sat on her couch for three hours, not speaking, not moving, and just staring sightlessly at the wall, his blue eyes glazed over with anxiety. He ate a little, that was reassuring, sort of, and she wasn't sure what happened with Allen Rodriguez, all she knew is that it stirred some kind of fear up with Woody. Before, it was different; he was happy, bouncy, willing to fall at her feet for anything, she wished to have those days back. When she was kidnapped, she had never felt fear like that, well, except for the digger thing, but that had been so long ago, this was a new fear, it left her paralyzed, hypnotized. But she was also confident that Woody would find her, and she would come home with him and the end, she'd have a happy ending.  
  
For the most part they did, spending nights at each others houses, having dinner, going to red sox games. They had to be the happiest couple in Boston, they never fought or bickered, and he never pushed. Then this case came up, damned this case, like so many before that consumed her thoughts this one did as well, only, it consumed his thoughts more.  
  
He wasn't sleeping or eating, he would often just stop everything and lay his head down on the desk in front of him, close his eyes and float away, where he went she had yet to find out.  
  
Now she knew what it was like to be him, worrying about her, constant nagging, a need just to follow a safe distance behind and watch as he self destructed, doing what he could from the distance that he was forced to dwell. She felt tears well up behind her eyes, she tried to tell herself it would be okay, in her heart she knew it wasn't okay; he was walking a familiar line, a line that led nowhere.  
  
Woody wandered down the street towards his house, he hadn't told Jordan they had threatened her, or him for that matter. He pushed his way through the throng of people, on their way somewhere; he stumbled, but caught himself quickly. Maybe he should give up on the case, was it worth the pain or ultimately his life? But if he gave up, they would have won, and they were not going to win.  
  
As he was unlocking the door to his building, anxious to leave the bitter wind and snow outside, he noticed a box, 'Free' was all it said, it was shut, but moist from the snow. He opened it, what he saw almost brought him to tears. Someone left a puppy outside, alone, in the cold, it was ball of fluff yet it shivered. He let his hand down next to the puppy's nose; he recognized the familiar black and white pattern.  
  
"Hey Bud, you're a border collie, they have tons of you in Wisconsin..." he picked him up gingerly, wrapping the pup inside of his jacket. "Wanna get something to eat?" the dog wagged his tail and licked Woody's face with his warm tongue.  
  
He liked the innocence of the puppy, he didn't kill or lie, he didn't try to be something he wasn't yet, someone didn't want him, they could have put a add in the paper or took him to the pound, no, they left him alone, to freeze.  
  
"I bet Joe, would like you." He murmured under his breath, patting the pup as it gobbled the food he put down hungrily. "Yeah, you'd like her too..." he went threw his mail, ad, bill, ad, bill, and wedding invite... nothing important. Outside the cold seeped through the walls, chilled his flesh and licked his bones. He felt no peace, no security... he couldn't feel anymore, the definition of feel is to respond to, seem, to assume, think or touch. He couldn't do any of those anymore; he had for so long held this image as a happy-go-lucky detective that would follow a lead anywhere, now he was cold, distant, and utterly alone.  
  
He sat at his computer desk and laid his head down, he was scared to sleep now, knowing that the dream would be back, with that haunting picture of Jordan, that look of fear, that pain... he couldn't stand to see her in pain, it was difficult, he loved her so much he couldn't breathe.  
  
But soon sleep tugged on his eyelids and claimed him. As soon as it did, the dream returned, and he was running up that staircase, the only thing he could think was god ... don't hurt her, please, I'll do anything, take me, just spare her.  
  
"Jordan... Jordan!" he screamed, panic rising in his throat, he choked on it, kicking down the door, he found fear gave him a superhuman strength, he wasn't sure how, then again he was never sure of anything anymore, he didn't know what was reality and what was all in his head....  
  
Oh god, her face, like porcelain, ashen, yet like silk a face of pure sorrow, yet she was calm, he knelt next to her, touching a light fingertip to the very tip of her nose... he saw Max, standing over her body, a look of pure despondency and misery as he turned slowly... deliberately pointing the gun towards Woody, his trigger finger twitched slightly....  
  
"Jordan!" he screamed, searching desperately around his barren, cold apartment for some remnants of her, a hair clip maybe, with a single strand of hair. He stumbled in the bathroom and turned the faucet on cold, his mom used to wipe his face when he was sick, and right now he needed something familiar and safe.  
  
He wiped down his face, the cool, clean water felt pleasant on his feverish and sweaty skin. He looked into the mirror, but what he saw wasn't him, it was a monster with hallow eyes that led to a hallow heart; he knew what he had to do.  
  
He picked up the phone, dialing her digits, slowly, making sure the numbers were right, he hung up the first time, he wasn't sure why. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, the part right between the eyes before dialing again. When he heard her voice, groggy and saturated with sleep, he felt a wave of relief course threw him, he could always call her... she was his angel, she was always standing by.  
  
"Hello?" she whispered sleepily  
  
"Hi," he muttered, it was muted, almost inaudible  
  
"Hey Babe, it's three O'clock in the morning... anything wrong?"  
  
"No," he said, rubbing his head with his free hand. "No I just had to hear your voice that's all, I just... I just had to hear your voice." He repeated, not sure of himself.  
  
"Oh, are you okay?" she asked concern thick in her voice.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sorry to disturb you sweetheart I just needed to hear you."  
  
"Okay" she mumbled "I'll talk to you tomorrow, its my day off, I'll come by the precinct to see you."  
  
"Alright babe, see you tomorrow, sweet dreams." With that he hung up the phone, he could feel himself breaking down, a piece of himself was being ripped away, it was heartrending, he could feel the tears bite the back of his eyes as he slid to the floor, he let them come, no one was around, he could afford to be unstable for tonight. 


	8. Echoes

Officer Smith was in interrogation when Woody got to work the next day. It hit him like a ton of bricks, Officer Smith, the one from the pictures, those pictures hadn't meant a lot until now, and they were still waiting to be processed come to think of it.  
  
"This is Officer Smith." Woody asked a black and white posted out front of the interrogation room.  
  
"Yeah, he's a real charmer." The black and white stated mordantly, opening the heavy metal door open, allowing the young detective to walk threw. His feet felt like iron when he walked threw that threshold of that cold interrogation room; something wasn't right about this guy. Blonde hair and dishwater eyes, broad and big boned, defiantly not the kind of man you'd want to mess with.  
  
"Good morning Officer Smith, I'm-"  
  
"I know who you are Detective Hoyt." He said, taking a long drag off of his Marlboro cigarette. "Seen you on TV with that Cynthia Montgomery case."  
  
"Okay, I have a couple of questions about Jennifer O'Brian." Woody barreled on; he didn't like to hear about that case, from anyone.  
  
"Officer, were you and Miss O'Brian close?" Woody waited patiently as the tall officer took another drag off of his cigarette  
  
"We dated for a few months before Officer Freedmen was murdered, she was real shaken up about that, they were friends."  
  
"Did she ever talk about Allen Rodriguez or Chief Haralson?"  
  
Suddenly the man's demeanor changed, he began to sweat, a look of anxiety and pressure entered his stormy eyes. "I can't talk about this anymore." With that he got up and stormed out. Woody was furious, it was like a bit of the puzzle was missing, only one piece, but without that piece the picture is never clear. Woody sat in the interrogation room, fuming, his hands crossed on the table in front of him, head down. Finally he got up quickly, grabbing the files off of the end of the table headed for the door.  
  
Woody watched as Officer Smith got in his silver SUV, the man looked cocky, not the face of a man whose ex-lover was found murdered in a cheap hotel three blocks from the red light district.  
  
Slowly, and every so carefully Woody followed keeping a safe distance from that silver truck. He had reached the end; this was it, the breaking point. He pulled out his gun, the sound of the metal as it slipped from the holster echoed in his mind, pounding in his skull, throbbing behind his eyes.  
  
Buttery sunlight glistened off of the fresh snow that packed the sides of the sidewalk. Woody was sitting silently in his car, his mind racing, his nerves shot. He had barely slept in two days; he had no signs of slowing down either. His faded blue eyes stared at the picture in front of him, Officer Smith, sauntering into that sleazy motel like he owned it. It sickened Woody, all the corruption, greed had taken over the justice system, it was ironic that greed was what he was suppose to be keeping from the justice system. Slowly, he pulled the car from the ignition, gun hidden in his hand carefully, badge in the other, he caressed it, like it was the only thing keeping him real anymore, the only thing telling him that he was better than those scumbags.  
  
"Hi" he told the receptionist idly, picking at a bit of worn paint on the partition. "Did an Officer Smith just come in here?" she looked at him as if he had two heads.  
  
He held out his badge for inspection. "Detective Hoyt Boston PD." He announced himself "What room?" he demanded, his patience shot. She looked aprehinsive but pointed out room 213, he nodded in appreciation and walked towards the door...  
  
"Officer Smith..." he whispered in a deathly calm voice, staring at the Officer stooped in the middle of the room "I have to know what happened, I know you called in sick on Tuesday, the day she was killed... why what was so important! What do you know?!" Woody's mind had snapped, three days, 72 hours with only four hours of sleep, twelve cups of coffee and half a jelly doughnut. Slowly and deliberately he raised his gun, and cocked it.  
  
"Officer Smith, I have to know what happened... you know, you know the answers, you're the missing link." His hand shook slightly, but he kept a tight grip on the gun held out in front of him.  
  
"Listen, anything I say can't be used in court, you have a gun to my head." Officer Smith reasoned, Woody had enough of reason, there was no rational reasons for anything anymore.  
  
"Guess what Smith," Woody whispered, kneeling down to face the stout officer. "No one knows we 're here" he pressed he barrel of the gun against Smith's forehead, he was sweating now, looking in the stone blue eyes everyone in the force thought belonged to an amiable detective from Wisconsin, no these eyes were cold, heartless and mean.  
  
"Jansen and Tandy had a deal with Shelton, they wanted her dead because she was testifying and because she was a liability, Freedmen gave her the files, go by her apartment... she'll have the files, everything that has to do with everyone... they met her at the T-Line, killed her there, then took her here, dumped her and made it look like she was the one dealing."  
  
"How did they know that she was going to be at the T-Line?" Woody demanded, exhausted of the run around.  
  
"Because I told them." The man whispered, lowering his cowardice, drab, gray eyes in fear and shame. Woody closed his eyes, it was all clear, now he had to get to her apartment before Tandy and Jansen, if that was possible.  
  
"Why would you tell them?" Woody asked, swiftly regaining himself. "What did she hurt you that bad, when she left?" He was baffled at how this man just gave her away, like that.  
  
"they told me... they told me they wouldn't hurt her." He stated like it was some consolation or Validation to his act.  
  
"So, you just took a sick day off while they killed her, and kept your knowledge to yourself... she was twenty four, still a child with a life in front of her, she was someone's daughter, someone's best friend... she was a good kid." Woody got up to walk away, shaking his head self righteously, his frame towering over the cowering officer in the middle of the room.  
==================================================================  
"Jordan, Jordan!" Woody called out, looking around the well lit room in astonishment.  
  
"Hey Wood. How do you like it?" she called from the other room. He was a little surprised to see Christmas lights and garlands, and one very drunk Santa on the porch.  
  
"I love it! Honey get out here, what is all this?" he gave her a kiss on the cheek mixed with a confused glance  
"I wanted you to have a Christmas like you would at home... you know the whole country Christmas thing." He chuckled.  
  
"Well in Wisconsin we usually have sober Santa's, but this is B-E-A-Utiful sweetie." He stole a kiss before remembering himself. "I have something for you," He went out to the porch, retrieving four boxes from the porch, three of medium size and one that was large, she watched him as he set the perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree. He couldn't seem to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. "Those have to wait to open those... this one... you have to open now, or it will suffocate." He held out the largest box to her, like a little kid watching a parent open something they made, he watched her every move.  
  
"Suffocate? You bought me something that breaths?" she asked quizzically, looking to him for answers.  
  
"Well I didn't exactly buy it, I found it, it was lost and alone and it needed a friend."  
  
She gasped when she saw the pup in the box, looking a little confused but happy as a clam, when it saw her, it yelped and wagged its tail.  
  
"You got me a puppy?!" she asked already clutching to the wiggling mass of fur as if it were her child, speaking to it in hushed tones, stroking its head.  
  
"Well I can't have a dog, and you need someone to talk to when I'm not here, something so I will be sure you won't run." He smiled as he watched Jordan, her hair falling in her cocoa eyes, in the baby blue low-cut sweater she looked as beautiful as the day he saw her in the Pouge in that barely there red dress "Now, get dressed, we're going out." He announced "I have somewhere very special to take you... you'll like it." She giggled as she ran into the other room to change, he smiled, he loved her more than anything. Images of that dream entered his empty mind, her colorless expression, he wanted it to stop all of it, he could hear her in the next room, it was like she wasn't there. He was on one side and she was on the other. He had brought her back to the side of the living and he promptly fell to the dark side.  
  
"Hello? Wood?" she was standing in front of him, waving her hand in front of his eyes. "You okay Hun, you look, drawn." For the first time, he noticed she was dressed in a hunter green silk halter dress, stiletto heels, her toes were painted lilac, that was the first thing he noticed the beautiful shade of purple.  
  
"Yeah, get your purse, lets go."  
  
Footnote: I know I stopped a little short on the case, it will resume next chapter 


	9. Simple Observations

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan, I never will.

Note: R&R, should I continue?

Woody never wanted a glamorous life, just something simple that he could call his. He should have been celebrating; making an arrest on the O'Brian case should have made his year. Something in his mind couldn't get those threats out of his head, They were relentless, tearing down his psyche bit by bit. Jordan seemed happy, you know what they say, ignorance is bliss. She chatted happily as she ate. He was forced to smile, she was so happy; she didn't have those dark circles that had plagued her sparkling eyes for so long.

But the threats were in the back of his mind, chewing slowly threw his thoughts and showing threw his lackluster eyes. Jordan saw it, she saw the way he stared down at his food, which he barely touched, and she saw the unstable stare of a man on the edge of something much too deep. She recognized it, she knew it well herself.

"Woody, are you okay?" she asked softly, gripping his hand in concern.

He was startled by her soft touch, he had done that a lot lately, been somewhere else all together.

"I'm fine Jord, don't worry," he forced a smile, giving her a small kiss on her cheek, sometimes she worried too much about him.

She didn't look entirely convinced, her eyes warily watched as he picked at his lasagna. He was slipping, she saw it, he was slipping somewhere else and she knew before long it would be too late, she had to do something before she or Woody was hurt.

"Woody, I'm going to talk to doctor Stiles, I'm thinking maybe he should talk to you." He looked at her stunned.

"I don't need to see doctor Stiles, Jo, I'm fine, and I'm just a little tired that's it, its nothing a hot bath and some warm food won't cure."

"That's a lie Wood, you know it and I know it, in the last three weeks I've seen you eat maybe three times. You've lost God knows how much weight, you don't sleep... You've been by my house maybe three times... Woody, something's happening, I need to know what it is, you can talk to me... what happened?"

Her coffee eyes glittered with unshed tears as he met them stubbornly; he saw the concern brimming on her face. He couldn't tell her, she was just learning to face her own demons herself. He wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere and rot away, somewhere he could let go and be unattached.

His pause was undying, he was silent yet everything he said was heard. She looked at him in part sympathy and part astonishment, he didn't trust her. Slowly, carefully, she dabbed the corners of her mouth with her burgundy napkin, stalling, giving him time to answer the inevitable.

This was supposed to be their night, the one night to be together. He wanted to comfort her, tell her about the dreams, how they plagued his thoughts constantly. He wanted to tell her that he feared for her life incessantly. He wanted to tell her about the threats against his life and hers.

"Woody?" She begged doggedly, after all of the lies and deceit with her father, all of her truths had turned out to be a big fat lie. She didn't want that to happen with Woody, he had recently become her love yes, but first and foremost he had always been her friend.

His eyes fell, for the first time he noticed his suit hung on his shoulders loosely, his collarbone jutted sharply against his dress shirt. His belt had to be looped a couple more notches. He had never observed before

It was funny how a simple observation can completely stun you; an awareness of your surrounding could save your life. Jordan stood, she saw the wariness in his gaze, he wasn't the Woody she knew, he was someone different. A shell of a person, with empty eyes. She gently pushed her chair away from the table, stood, and stared him in the eyes, challenging him

"I'm giving you some time to sort whatever it is out, you need space... I'm going home, I'll see you later." She backed away from him slowly... "I thought maybe it was because you changed, I just realized I never knew you at all." She threw some money down on the table, couples from other tables turned to watch her walk off.

It hit him, temporarily shocking him, she was going home, and home wasn't safe. He got up, knocking his chair over in the process. Whatever she did, she couldn't go home. "Jordan!" he screamed after her, she stopped mid step that was the first time he had raised his voice to her. It knocked some sense back into her, nothing could be that good for that long. He was just like everyone else, he left, maybe it was inadvertent but he left. She continued her even strides.

===============================================================


	10. A moth to a flame

Jordan didn't look back again, snow swirled around in the crisp night air, a fresh sheet of power blanketed the street, casting an eerie afterglow. She thought he was real, she could touch him, feel him, and she had this connection with him. He was distant and cold, although she could see the truth and despair just beyond the guardedness. She hadn't meant for that to happen, with each step she felt her stomach calm and her anger settle.

Woody was bewildered, he couldn't move, his legs were numb. His hands shook as he stared down at his lasagna, it had barely been touched, she was right, he had changed. When he left Kewaunee he had twelve hundred dollars in his pocket and a suitcase, it was all he needed to start a life somewhere new. Finding the apartment was easy, it was the homesickness that was the killer, he loved Kewaunee, he loved his family... he loved Annie, but he was too stubborn to go back, and besides, who was he if he spent his entire life wondering what would have happened if he didn't leave.

Annie, for the longest time he thought she was the love of his life. She knew him, everything, she could feel his life, but he wasn't good enough for her. Her father said it best; she would never marry a cop, never. So he did what anyone would have, he ran.

The pain and disappointment was too much for him to take, and twelve hundred dollars later, he found himself cowering in Boston, licking his wounds. Boston was different, he expected it to be, his girl was gone, and he was totally alone in a strange new place. Reinventing himself to be someone he wasn't was difficult for him; he didn't like the shell of a man that he had become.

His breathing became shallow and rapid as he thought. He found Jordan like a cool stream through a burning desert. What started as lust, wanting to obtain the unobtainable, soon became something more for him, something unworldly, and something he could never have had with Annie.

He stood quickly, managing to look civil, as soon as he reached the door, he was running. Slipping on a bit of ice, he quickly regained himself. The car was locked, damned that car, he turned on his heels and began running down the ice slicked sidewalk, dodging couples and middle aged women with shopping bags as he did.

It was something in the way he saw inside of her, like a moth to a flame she followed, a willing participant. And she got burnt. She didn't know how long she was standing on her corner, staring at her window, all lit up with Christmas lights that flickered off and on. She denied it with every ounce of her being, she loved him, and he had seen it from that night in the desert, and from the moment that wall was put up he was chipping away.

And chip by chip, that wall came down, slowly and patiently he waited for her to slow her pace and eventually stop running. And she loved him for it. She loved the way his hair smelled, the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her. He was her Woody, the same Woody that would save the mango in his fruit salad for her, he would sing yellow submarine on the top of his lungs just to make her laugh, Woody. Something in her would always be drawn to his innocence and his Midwestern charm.

The streetlamp glowed neon orange across the street, somewhere far off a siren blew, she wondered where they were going, if someone was hurt or dying, if someone was as alone as she felt right now. A dog barked down the street, knocking her back to her wits. She looked down at her dress; it went down to her knee, olive green, halter top, tight in all the right places, she was snug as a bug in her wool coat though. It was over, just like that, in an instant it was gone.

That's when she felt it, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her neck. She felt fear trickle up her spine as the man placed his arm around her throat pressing hard, she felt the air being squeezed from her throat, and she could hear the man's raspy breath.

"Take whatever you want." She said coolly, dropping her purse at his feet. he turned to face Jordan, the smell of tobacco and cheap beer wafted to her nostrils, as he released her neck to grab a hold of her elbow with tremendous force.

"I don't want you money Doctor Cavanaugh," he jeered at her toothily, Jordan felt primal fear, a fear that paralyzes your senses and hypnotizes the brain, she couldn't even scream.

"Then what?" she asked her voice shaking, taking in the men behind him. His eyes met her; they were cold, distant and heartless, black. Footsteps, Woody, she could tell it was him, he was chasing after her.

"Detective Hoyt!" the man exclaimed in mock surprise. Woody stopped dead in his tracks, snow twirled around him. He looked so different, and somehow calm, his emaciated figure, his hallow, sunken eyes and ashen, disconsolate face. She couldn't speak, she couldn't tell him that she didn't mean what she had said at the restaurant, she did know him, he was Woody. The same Woody that would sing yellow submarine at the top of his lungs just to make her laugh, the same Woody that would save the mango in his fruit salad for her, Woody.

"Leave her out of this, she's got nothing to do with it." His voice was so soft, like it was muted by the snow that fell around him.

"Oh, Detective, with you, she has everything to do with this," a cold rush of wind brushed by them, sending Jordan's hair in every direction. "Now I thought we made are selves very clear, I asked nicely, and I do not like to repeat myself." He caressed Jordan's face with the butt of the gun, she heard the tell tale sound of a gun cocking, she knew that sound well, she was a cops daughter. Jordan could see tables in his eyes turning; she could feel the thoughts running threw his head as he reached for his gun...

Woody wasn't sure why he pulled his gun, maybe to redirect danger to him instead of Jordan. Images flashed threw his brain like grainy home videos, them sharing dinner at the Pouge, watching movies on the couch, all snuggled together. He had never felt what he had felt with Jordan, and he'd never feel it again with anyone else. It all happened so quick, he didn't even have time to register anything besides the man pushing Jordan into someone else, and even then all he could see was her.

The man was a threat, a threat to Jordan and he had to be stopped, even as he heard the sound like a car backfiring, and felt the sticky, hot feeling of blood trickle down his side, he fired his gun, he wasn't sure if he had hit the man, all he knew is he fired until there weren't anymore bullets left to fire.

"No!" Jordan wailed, struggling to free herself from the grip of the man holding her middle so tight she could barely breathe. Woody stumbled around for a moment, a glazed look in his sapphire eyes. After a moment of shock, she noticed that the man had released her, they were climbing back into there SUV's and driving away like nothing happened.

Jordan darted to him, catching his head as he fell to the ground with a soft thud. His eyes, they were terror filled and confused, they darted around in panic, but came to settle on her she noticed the blood gathering in a pool underneath him, mixing with the snow, forming slush. She allowed tears to fall freely as she dialed 911.

"You're going to be okay Wood, paramedic's are on their way." She held his head in her lap as she pressed on the wound, hoping against all hope that somehow he would live, and be her Woody. He watched her as she spoke to the dispatcher, after a few seconds of a glazed stare; he reached up with a blood soaked hand and stroked her face.

"Hi Jordan," he said in a child like whisper, "I'm sorry,"

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, after a moment she regained herself. "For what?" she asked smoothing his hair with her own blood stained hand.

"All of the blood, Jo, are you okay?" he asked, searching around frantically. She pushed him down back into her lap.. "I can't reach you." He whispered, looking her straight in the eyes. A tale tell blaze of sirens and a blue and red glow on the snow on the street signaled police, it took them long enough. She exhaled, looking down at Woody's sweat caked forehead, placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Shh, it's all going to be over soon." She whispered with more confidence than she felt


	11. a weakened condition

Home was never safe for Jordan; it was the one place where death and life came together. She stood in the hospital hallway, staring numbly at Woody, his eyes darting around frantically for her, nurses and doctors tried in vain to calm him down, tying his wrists to the bed with gauze, he fought them as he searched for her desperately, his eyes darted around, he shouted her name hysterically, mumbled about white skin and crimson blood.

Tears fell freely down her blood stained face, she was covered with blood, it saturated her legs, arms, dress, and face. It crusted in her chestnut hair. Her eyes stared blankly at him in disbelief. This wasn't what was suppose to happen, he was her prince charming, they were suppose to ride off in the sunset, happily ever after.

She slid to the floor, staring down at her bare feet, her toenails all painted up lavender. If they could see her now, all sick like and tired. A thin, tidy looking nurse walked over to her, gently picking her up and leading her to a chair down the hall, which Jordan promptly slid out of, she was more comfortable on the cold floor than on the chair.

The white lights blinded her as she leaned against the chair for support. What would happen if he left, if she never could call him in the middle of the night to hear his voice? Where would she be if he was gone? She would be a little girl, scared and alone, like that night, the night. She found whenever he was around she didn't feel like that ten year old, scared and motherless. He made everything okay and somehow bearable.

She cowered on the floor, not sure of herself and abandoned, the hall was empty, and she tried to crawl toward the trauma room where he was. She failed, and had to clutch the hand rail along the wall, to exhausted from crying she just sat there, hold that hand rail, sobbing in vain.

She heard their voices long before she saw them, especially Nigel. Soon his lanky figure came into view, as did Garret, then Peter, then Bug, Devan and Lily. All had these concerned looks on their faces. Nigel stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her sitting on the floor, a blood trail from where she crawled. She looked so little and weak, his eyes fell to her dress, black with blood, so much blood.

She held out her arms to him like a child begging to be picked up. When Garret leaned down, she draped her arms around his neck, he lifted her easily, and she was so lifeless in his strong arms. He walked over to the chair and sat with her in his lap; she buried her face in his neck and wept.

A nurse was walking towards them, Devan, Lily, Bug, Peter and Nigel all shared a look, her head was down, face calm, yet just beyond it some look of regret and sadness. "Miss Cavanaugh, the doctor would like a word with you."

When she had tried to kill herself, she thought that was a low, she hadn't known low until that moment when the nurse walked toward them. She was wearing Mickey Mouse scrubs, Jordan reminded herself to get a pair, and she was trying to ignore that feeling of sadness and guilt that riled her stomach. Everyone moved painfully slow, waiting for Jordan to take lead.

The doctor looked grim, Jordan almost screamed when she saw that, doctors weren't supposed to look like that. She noticed Nigel slip out of the room, she wasn't sure where he was going, and she didn't care.

"Doctor Cavanaugh, I'm Doctor Foster I'm treating Detective Hoyt, we've got the bullet out, but his weakened condition is a cause for concern, it's minute by minute, we'll have to take him to surgery soon..." Jordan fell sobbing on the ground. No one moved, the air was so still, the short, stocky doctor had the good grace to look uncomfortable. Nigel steeled back into the room.

"I just called his mum in Kewaunee, his family is taking the next flight out." He said softly, watching Jordan with trepidation. Bug slumped into a chair, soon everyone followed suit.

"If you want to see him, you can, but only for a few moments." They doctor said, standing to leave.

Jordan stood slowly, Garret put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly, she was startled by the touch and pulled away quickly. Garret put his head in his hands, too tired to do anymore. Everyone held their breath as they watched her wander out to the hall.

He was sleeping, his eyes closed peacefully, his forehead was encrusted with sweat, he muttered imperceptibly to himself incoherently, she brushed back his hair from his eyes. He was hot to the touch.

"Woody?" she asked him, as if the word alone would bring him back to her. When he didn't answer her eyes fell to her feet. "Woody I don't know if you can hear me. I just wanted to say... that was the stupidest thing, what in the hell were you thinking huh?" she smiled threw her tears, trying to joke with herself. She couldn't explain the feeling in her stomach; it was different than anything else she had ever experienced. Love, sadness, grief and pain mixed with regret. "I- I thought it was impossible to love someone the way I love you Wood, you have faith in me and I don't know if you know what that's worth to me... oh god, I love you..."

She set her head down on the rail of the bed and closed her eyes. He seemed so far away and yet so close to her. Jordan let out a heavy sigh, the exhaustion was catching up to her.

"I knew it," Woody whispered coughing. Jordan's head shot up in shock.

"Woody!" she asked wiping her face quickly. He opened his sparkling azure eyes for a fleeting second to look at her, his face relaxed as he studied her. "Jesus Christ Farm Boy you scared the life outta me!" she stated setting her chin on his chest.

"What's all this blood? Oh my God Jordan are you okay?!" he struggled to sit up, a pair of firm hands pushed him back down.

"I'm fine Woody, they're more concerned about you, it appears you hit a bullet with your body." He smiled weakly, a warm Woody Hoyt smile. She saw in the dimly lighted hospital room, the fear in his eyes, he was scared, he would never admit it to her, and he didn't need to. "Its okay," she picked up his hand and held it close to her face. "You're okay."

He could feel her tears on his hand, he couldn't feel a lot, he felt pain and fear, but somehow relieved that Jordan was okay. The vertigo was awful, the room was like a giant tilt-a-whirl. There was no rhyme or reason of why he loved Jordan, just this sense of completion, she was his way home. He leaned back in his bed, resolving the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach away. He closed his eyes, he could finally rest.

Jordan watched him close his beautiful, big eyes and this feeling of helplessness washed over her. After a minute of watching him, she noticed his breathing was becoming shallow. She perked up in worry, he was mumbling to himself again.

"Woody? Woody!" she shook his shoulder hard.

"Aw, Ow!" she inhaled with relief, he was alive.

"Sorry, go back to sleep." She whispered, wiping his hair off of his forehead softly. Just then the nurses came in to take him to prep him for surgery. In the end all she could do was wait, wait for some sort of vindication, some sort of shiny light, anything that would make the pain cease.


	12. Keep me in your heart

Jordan was exhausted, that was an understatement, her eyelids were heavy and her shoulders drooped. Woody had been in surgery for five hours and they had heard nothing. Everyone was silent, Bug leaned against the chair for support, Devan was almost in tears, and Peter was slumped in the corner asleep, Lily sat reading a magazine next to Jordan, looking up once in a while to check on her. Garret and Nigel sat together talking in hushed tones in the hall, once in a while Jordan heard her name being mentioned faintly. She curled up against the scratchy wool blanket that was wrapped around her for warmth; it wasn't doing any good, her insides felt as cold as ice.

Bug looked down at his watch. "Merry Christmas everybody." He stated dispiritedly. Lily looked at Jordan with a sympathetic eye; she saw the look of grief that passed over her colorless face.

"Well," Devan said dolefully, pulling out a flask from her coat pocket. "Here we are... one big happy family." She took a swig and passed it on to Lily, who took a hearty mouthful and passed it to Jordan, and Jordan finished it off. She allowed the searing liquid to slide down her throat and create a warm feeling in her tummy.

Jordan stood up and wandered out of the room, her eyes were all glazed over with anxiety, and no one could take their eyes off of her thin figure. She wasn't sure entirely where she was going, she held her arms close to her body in a vain attempt to secure herself.

To Jordan something's in this world didn't make sense, God, Angels, faith. For so long those things were overrated, she couldn't feel them, she couldn't see them, and therefore they weren't real.

She was damaged goods for most, a broken bird that had spent far to long in the wind and rain. With Woody it was different, he didn't see her as that ten year old, and he didn't see her as a driven medical examiner that was numb to all feeling. He saw her as Jordan, a real, breathing, feeling person. Jordan had pushed him away so many times; running away was the easy way out, it kept the demons just one step behind.

Before she could turn around, she realized where her feet had carried her, the chapel. Why was she here? And why couldn't she leave? Something held her in that chapel like glue, she wasn't sure why she stared up at that crucifix with wonder, it didn't make sense. She slowly made her way to the wall of candles in front of her, lighting each one, slowly, giving each its own amount of attention. The candlelight cast shadows on Jordan's face, flickering softly.

She knelt in front of the partition of candles, closing her eyes and lifting her chin, she prayed, she didn't know if there was a God out there, she didn't know if he was listening or even if he cared, all she knew was Woody was hurt and alone... just like her, and he deserved a little help, just like her.

She heard the door, but didn't turn around but she heard the thud of it closing. Then she heard the tell tale clicking of high heels against the hardwood floor.

"You must be Jordan." The woman said, Jordan whirled around to see a older woman standing in the hallway, a sad smile locked with a look of grief, her champagne hair was cut into a feathery bob, her cheeks was stained with mascara from crying, a few wrinkles scattered across her buttery face, she wore a baby blue jeans and a white top. Jordan guess her to be Woody's mother, she looked remarkably beautiful for a Midwestern housewife.

"Yeah." Jordan whispered barely discernable.

"I'm Jacquelyn Woody's mother, you can call me Jax... everybody does." She took a couple of careless steps and kneeled next to Jordan, wiping Jordan's face with her sleeve. "Sweetheart," she whispered, Jordan wasn't even aware she was crying.

"I should have... done something." Jordan said between sobs, giving in and lamenting on Jacquelyn's shoulder.

"Now, now, child, if anyone knows my boy Woody, it's me, and there was nothing you could do... his a good boy, a bit stubborn but in the end he always does the right thing... This would have happened whether you were there or not." She stroked Jordan's hair back softly, and rubbed soft circles in her back.

"For so long I ran from him, from love... I finally stop and look where it gets me!" Jordan whispered.

"Honey, I think you and my son have more in common than you know." Before Jordan could inquire about what she meant, Garret was in the doorway with the doctor, their faces set grimly.

"Oh god" Jordan whispered.


	13. If you don't see it then its not real

Note: A reminder that Jax, is Jacquelyn, I made that clear last chapter, I'm not sure why I just felt like I should remind everyone, (So there isn't any confusion!)

p.s. I know it's a short chapter, but Its all I could write tonight.

Jordan's heart fell; she could no longer feel the left half of her body. The light from the hallway created shafts of light that streamed boldly threw the opened doors. The look of Garrets face would be etched forever in her memory.

"God No, No, Garret No!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, looking from Garret to the doctor to Jax, who had an equally grief stricken face.

"Jordan," Garrets face softened "He's not dead." Jordan's face filled with relief, then anger, anger that seeped into her bones.

She stood and with every ounce of strength she had left, she lunged at Garret slamming her fists on his chest.

"Don't you ever do that to me again? Don't ever..." she stumbled away from him, blinded by tears and utter rage. Garret put hung his head, something approaching anger filling his veins.

"Where's my baby?" Jax whispered, her eyes filled with pain.

"He's in a drug induced coma, he hemorrhaged, and he lost a lot of blood." The doctor said ruefully, "you can see him if you want, there's not much to see though, he mostly tubes and wires."

"Thank you doctor." Garret said, shaking the doctors' hand and gazing at Jordan's stunned yet relived face.

Jordan glared but thrust herself past him, she wasn't even sure why she was angry with Garret, all she knew was that pain that throbbed its way up from her stomach to her heart to her head, and it was all she could feel.

When she reached the room Lily and Nigel were grief stricken out front; Lily was in tears, Nigel was pale, paler than usual.

"Don't go in there love," he mumbled, she shot a pain ridden glance to Nigel, then to Lily, who grabbed her shoulders, hard, Jordan was surprised at the strength coming from Lily of all people.

"Don't Jordan, if you don't see it then its not real." Jordan was bewildered at this pronouncement; she looked at Lily, puzzled. She pushed her way through and stopped where she stood, behind her she could feel Nigel covering his mouth with a bony hand, and Lily's eyes falling.

Was that Woody? The same Woody that would save the mango in his fruit salad for her? The same Woody she danced with so many times in the empty pouge? The Woody that held her hair back when she was drunk and throwing up in the bathroom, a rueful grin plastered on his face as he told stale jokes in a futile attempt to make her feel better.

For all he was, there wasn't much left of him, he was pale and weak, all wrapped up in tubes and wires. He looked so small; something deep in Jordan's core wondered why he was still alive at all. She took a look at his fragile body lying limply in that cold, lifeless hospital room Before Jordan knew it she was running, at top speed, down the dimly lighted corridor and out the automatic double doors. She could hear footsteps behind her and guessed they were Garrets. The crisp night air felt so good on her feverish skin as she skidded to a stop out front of Garrets aquamarine sports car. Her hand had just hit the door handle when he grabbed her from behind, forcing her with all his might away from the automobile.

No Jordan, running isn't the answer, don't do this." She pulled away with what seemed at the time superhuman strength.

"It is Garret! It isn't worth it! Love isn't worth it! Its easier this way! No one will get hurt if I leave now, just let me go, Garret please, I can't see him like that."

Garret's face softened when he heard her plea, but something in him hardened as well.

"Jordan, someone will be hurt, we'd all be hurt, but you know who would be hurt the most? Woody, what happens when he wakes up and we have to explain that you ran away, huh? Jordan if he won't die from that bullet, he would right then, because to him, right now, you're the only reason he's living, and you know it, maybe love isn't worth it...that isn't the question, is Woody worth it?" He took a small step toward her, she smelled like vanilla and blood.

Something in Jordan relented; she draped her arms across Garrets neck and cried, cried until the tears were gone.

"Come on, I'll take you home" Garret whispered


	14. Addiction

When Woody woke up the first thing he felt was him, swimming in sunlight. His mouth was dry and cottony; his head felt like it had doubled in size. Lying in that bed, helpless and alone, it made him think of the things he forgot to do, things that seemed so insignificant were now the most important, small things, before he left Kewaunee, he loved to play baseball, go for walks threw the woods, eat thanksgiving dinner with his family. Things that weren't so important before suddenly seemed the world. Then he came to Boston and things were... faster. Slowly he forgot the things he loved, and like a spreading stain he slowly felt himself suffocating, and he smiled less and less, soon the smiles faded and left him with this shell, he couldn't even look at himself in the mirror in anymore

A nurse came in, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail on top of her head, she wore a happy expression on her thin face. "Good morning Detective, how you feeling?" she asked, checking his stats.

"Thirsty," he said, his voice hoarse from disuse. "My mouth is dry."

"Sorry Hoyt, no water, Demurral, we have you on an IV... you sure haven't been eaten right, poor guy." She babbled happily, frankly all the joy made his head hurt.

"I'm sorry, who you are is?" he asked, not meaning to be rude, but he a little confused, he didn't remember much of the past few days, he remembered pain... and Jordan.

"Presley, Presley Coop, I'm your RN." She was remarkably young for an RN, she smacked her gum enthusiastically..

"Is Jordan here?" he asked looking around for her.

"You mean that pretty girl that was in here earlier, dark hair?" she asked illustrating with her hands.

"Sounds like it, is she here?" Woody demanded, irritated with the girl, it wasn't that he didn't like her, he was groggy and in pain, no one should be that happy when he was in so much pain... it wasn't fair.

"She was... That bald man took her home, she tried to steal his car." She said snapping off her latex gloves. "I'll be back in a while, there's a little buzzer if you need me right there... if you need me" she pointed to the button on his bedrail. "Get some sleep Detective Hoyt, you need it bad." With that she skipped out of room, smacking her gum and looking down at her clipboard blissfully.

Jordan, it was an enigma why he waited so long for her, coaxing softly, waiting. It was so frustrating sometimes that he wanted to just shove back, hard. Something kept him from pushing, something deep inside that made him freeze, something he could feel but couldn't see, like air, you can't see it but you know its there.

Jordan ran, it was easier to forget when there was no familiarity to anything around her, he knew this, and when she ran, he chased, but whenever he got close, she'd turn the corner out of sight.

It was funny how when were kids, we expected a certain life, then we discover what life had always been. He remembered walking down the crowed streets and watching houses fill with light, people living lives that he used to lead. Children running threw a park, an elderly couple staring lovingly at each other. He loved that about the big city, everyone was on their way somewhere. He had an addiction to the neon lights, it was another world at night. Jordan taught him that love is a addiction, when you try to leave but it drags you back and the worst part is that you don't care.

Just as he was about to close his eyes a figure filled the doorway, he recognized it immediately "Hi mom." He whispered.

"Hey baby, how are you feeling?" she asked concerned, sitting on the bed and stroking his hair softly.

"I've been shot, how do you think I feel?" he whispered sarcastically, trying to sit up. "Where's Cal?" Woody had to ask, he'd never admit it but he missed his younger brother.

"In Kewaunee tying up loose ends, he'll be here soon enough." She patted his arm sensitively. "Woody... I'm sorry." She murmured after a long silent moment.

"For what Mom?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for some sort of answer.

"For not being there, I should have helped you with your homework, I should of met you at school in my car... I should have told you I love you more, all I ever told you is what a pain in the ass you were."

"Well... I am a pain in the ass." He half joked, patting her shoulder.

"Well, yeah, but... I was always kind of jealous of you Woodrow, you had that thing, like your father, that amazing gravitational pull, people notice you. You see, I always thought that you knew that, so I never told you, and when I got the call that you had been shot... I... I began to think, maybe you don't know that. I should have helped you." She finished, wiping his face down with a hand.

"I never asked for help mom." He stated, she looked into his eyes, almost a copy of hers, she felt tears blur her vision and drip down her face, blurring her vision.

"But you needed it, I mean even a pain in the ass needs someone to love them."

When Jax came out of the hospital room, she saw Jordan sitting on a chair half asleep, she had to smile, she liked Jordan, she was smart and semi-grounded, she wasn't a mutant... and she loved Woody that was all that mattered.

"Hon, come with me we need to talk." She stated, grabbing a hold of Jordan's hand. She looked better than she had last night, she was changed into clean clothes and showered, she looked pale, but better.

"Hey Mrs. H, how's Wood?" Jordan asked, concern laced her voice. That made Jax smile.

"He's tired, but he'll be okay, I think, he's not out of the woods yet, listen Jordan, I want to let you in on something that I think you should know." Her voice was somber, it scared Jordan, she knew in her heart that it was about what she said the other day, about her and Woody sharing something in common.

"What?" She asked her voice trembling.

"Woody is a good kid and a good cop, he's a little stubborn, but his heart is in the right place.... Do you know why he came to Boston?" Jax said, a lump came to Jordan's throat.

"No"

"He came to be a cop, just like his father... oh, his father, Paul Hoyt, when Woody was eleven he was shot and killed in the line of duty, before that he served in Vietnam." She pulled on something from around her neck. "These are his father's dog tags, the one thing Woody wants more than anything else in the world, and I refused to give them to him." Jax sighed sadly, for a moment Jordan thought she saw a flicker of pain? Resentment? Regret?

"I refuse because I didn't think he deserved them, I was waiting until something like this." A single, lonely tear drifted down her worn face. "He was the eldest; he bore the brunt of what happened to his father... in an instant I was left with two kids and a mortgage payment. I couldn't even take care of myself let alone Cal or Woody, I started to drink, I'd come home drunk... and pass out on the floor, and Wood would pick me up again... that's what he does, he picks up people when they need picking up. And for seventeen years he's been trying to prove himself for these damned dog tags."

Jordan felt pain inside of her, a deep, dark pain that cuts the quick of your soul.

"Will you give them to him for me?" Jax begged, pressing the cold metal into Jordan's hands.

"Of course Jax."

As she watched Woody's mother walk away she felt anger, hot anger towards woody. Why hadn't he told her this before? Was he ashamed? She stood to go inside, but instead just stared at the door, and sunk back into the chair, this would be harder than she thought.


	15. I'm right here

Note: This is going to be a really long story, I'm sorry if it's too long let me know and I'll wrap it up.

Disclaimer: I know how you all love disclaimers, so you all know what is coming next... I don't own crossing Jordan and I never will... there, now you don't have an excuse to sue me.

She could hear voices, Woody was talking to his RN, she could hear bits and pieces of the conversation as she came closer to the door.

"Remember Presley, you can never have too much sugar." Woody was telling the RN, she had to smile, he loved sugar. She almost forgot that she was angry with him.

Slowly, gathering her courage with all her strength she pushed open the door, the dog tags clutched tightly in her hand the cold metal felt sweaty against her palm, her face stale and flinty. They studied each other for a few moments, their eyes not meeting, waiting for one or the other to move.

Woody made the first move.

"Hey baby girl, I missed you." He said almost ashamed, his blue eyes were wreathed in dark circles. She walked over, careful to keep her eyes from his, if she did her anger would melt.

"Hey." She whispered void of any emotion.

He had a suspicion something was wrong, it was more knowing than suspicion.

"I haven't seen you in forever come here." He tried to smile, but the look of malice on her face kept it from creeping across his features.

"How come you never told me." She whispered, in a deathly quiet voice, it bowled Woody over for a moment, he was left stunned.

Swallowing hard, he whispered "Tell you what?" his palms began to sweat, and his face had an expression of bewilderment. It enraged Jordan, she had come so far, knocking down those walls, chip by chip she came down from her pedestal where she was carefully removed from the world, to him, and he didn't trust her enough to tell her simple things, he didn't tell her anything anymore. She would be talking to him and he would be somewhere else completely, his eyes would be glazed over and stormy, he would stare off and in a minute be somewhere else completely.

"You know damned well what." She stated, thrusting the dog tags out for him to inspect. She immediately felt bad; the look that came over his face was unforgettable, pain crept across his blue eyes as he turned them over and over in his hands, as if committing them to memory, a long, solitary tear fell down his cheek.

"Mom told you?" he whispered, not taking his eyes off of the metal in his large hands.

Her voice softened, but she made no attempt to move from her spot from the doorway. "Yeah." Was all she could say.

"He died April 27th, I was eleven... 1987." She knew what it was like to lose a parent, he was a bit older when his father died, and he knew the same pain she did. She could feel the stinging bite of tears as the flood of warm wetness soaked her cheeks.

"Woody," her voice softened, relenting she moved from her spot in the doorway, and sat on the edge of his bed, putting a hand gingerly on his forehead, wiping away the hair from his sweaty skin. He was like a child, playing with the dog tags, watching them intensely with his clear blue eyes, twisting them between his fingers. "You can tell me, Woody... Woody!" She was begging now, cupping his face in her willowy hands.

He pulled away gently, "No... No, you have your own problems you have to deal with, you don't need mine too." She wanted to cry, she had been awful to misjudge him so badly, He trusted her completely, and he was just scared. He looked so little, lying in that bed, staring at the tags, completely memorized by the metallic sound they made when they clashed together.

"Woody! You can tell me anything." He shook his head like a difficult child

"No, I can't... I can't." he whispered. Shaking his head again.

"Yes Woody, you can... you can, I promise, you can tell me anything." She pleaded, struggling to look into his eyes, when he looked up she saw it, they weren't the blue eyes of the happy-go-lucky detective that she loved, they were the eyes of a boy, lost and alone... without a friend in the world.

His face looked to be of time itself, he was pale and wasting away. She fought back tears as she watched him regress to childhood. She stood, she needed to find Doctor Stiles, he was shrinking away, slowly she backed out of the room.

"I'll be back Wood. I have a few things to tie up... I'm not leaving... I promise."

As her hand hit the cold doorknob she could hear his voice, barely discernable, but still it was there.

"I h-have these d-dreams." He had regressed farther than she had thought, he was stammering, and his head was down, shame filled his face. His eyes met her, the anguish that met her eyes was something she recognized, she used to see it when she looked in the mirror.

"What??" she asked eager for some sign that he could understand that she wanted to help him.

"W-when I sleep. I-I... H-Have dreams, I-I can't make them go J-Jordan." She took a step toward him; her level of misunderstanding was so deep.

"Tell me." Was all she could say.

"I-Its C-complicated, D-do you remember M-Malden?" he asked, his voice void of the happiness he once knew so well.

"Yeah." She could feel her bottom lip tremble, her hands were sweaty and she could feel her entire body shaking. "Yeah." She repeated.

"I-I have a dream, a-and I'm running up those s-stairs, god I was so, s-scared. A-and when I open the d-door..." his voice broke and then trailed away, as if the wind that howled steadily outside caught it up and carried it away to some far off land.

"I-I can never r-reach you... a-and when I-I do, y-you're so cold." Tears fell down his face as he openly sobbed, pent up emotion from the last few weeks fell down his face and sodden his chin. Her chin quivered as she rushed over to him, wrapping her arm around his neck she kissed the top of his head, as he sobbed into her forearm.

"Shh," she whispered into his ear from where she sat, leaning her left side into her back. "It'll all be okay, huh... don't cry." She tried desperately to calm him as she cried along with him. "Don't cry, I'm here, you can reach me... I'm right here."

When Jordan stumbled to her car, blinded by hot tears, she felt pain... a searing pain that left a gaping wound in her soul. He was falling; she had seen it in herself not too long ago. She stared sightlessly at her silver SUV, before she knew what she was doing, she threw her keys against the door with all her might.

"No!" She wailed, "Not Him! Not Now!" she spun around angrily as she shouted at the sky, a few bystanders stopped to stare. She stumbled blindly backwards, hitting her car, as she did the lump in her throat fell to her stomach... she stumbled to the ground, exhaustion taking over as she breathed deep, her mascara running, all of a sudden she didn't want to live anymore.


	16. You're innocent when you dream

Jordan stood out front of the brick house, worn cement steps that led to Doctor Stile's house, while she wasn't fond of the man; she had to feel some sort of admiration. He had pulled her off many a ledge. Her breathing was shallow; she could feel her lip trembling. Snow fell in sheets, swirling in the wind. For hours she sat in her car, watching the trees in the park dip low from the force of the wind, Christmas was over, but the decorations were still hung, a haunting reminder of the fateful day. When she had gone home that night, she felt something different, for the first time in her life she was in love, with a seemingly non-sub-defective, only to find he was as screwed up as her.

A hot shower and a clean change of clothes did nothing to enliven her spirits, she felt as lonely and as lost as she had at the hospital.

She thought about what he told her, about not being able to reach her. Time passed so quickly, like sand threw an open hand, hours went by like minutes as she stood out front of that brick house, her feet glued to that spot on the cold cement. Snow was gathered in thick clumps on her straight, dark hair and on the black wool jacket that fell to her feet, she was warm in that jacket, she was safe from the frost and bitter cold that the wind carried on its callous wings, she could almost hear his name being whispered threw the trees.

"Jordan?" Doctor Stiles puzzled voice rang out from the warmth of his doorway, soft glow of faint light washing over her like warm sea water.

"Doctor Stiles you have to come quick... Please!" she begged, her legs refused to move from that spot on the snow covered sidewalk.

He came to her, looking her over, she looked safe enough... she was wrapped up in a black coat, a pink scarf tucked in for additional warmth, her slender hands bundled in simple black mittens. Something in her eyes told a different story, she was like a deer caught in the head lights of a diesel truck... they were wide and panicky, like even the muted sounds of the snow falling on the lit up skyscrapers scared her down to her core.

"What is it Jordan?" he asked trying to help her inside; she pulled away from him with an indelicate jerk. The force bowled her over in the snow, she sat where she fell, covered in powder, and she was too tired to move any farther.

"Its not me this time Doctor Stiles, Its Woody." Howard was aware of what had happened to the happy-go-lucky detective, he enjoyed the boy's fearless 'I can tackle anything I want to' attitude, he was deeply saddened by the news that Garret filled him in on. Woody seemed the only one around the morgue that greeted him happily, part of the reason being he never was actually required to see Doctor Stiles professionally.

"What is it?" he asked helping her up and brushing her off gently.

"He's like a little boy, so scared... he told me he can't make the dreams go away." She seemed so anxious for her love, almost hyperventilating.

"What dreams Jordan?" he asked, already assessing what she was telling him.

"I'm not sure, he was so hard to understand." She stared at him pleading, the street was dark, and the open door created a shaft of tired light that flickered on and off.

"Alright let me get my coat... wait here."

"I will." She promised fervently.

"Jordan..." he warned "I mean it... don't move." He gave her a wary look as she nodded her head.

"What would make you think I'd move?" she asked, sarcastically, trying to hide the tremble in her sad voice.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = == = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Woody felt the effects of the demurral, he was starting to nod off, but as soon as his eyes closed they'd pop open... Jordan would be here soon, he had to stay awake to see her.

But his eyelids became heavier as he watched the snow swirl and vanish into vast, stark, white blanket that was adorned over the hospital parking lot, he felt so close to her, he could smell the scent of vanilla, her arms warm against the back of his neck as they danced in her living room to soft music, he could feel her, but he knew he was alone.

He felt sleep take over, its darkness settling cold and unsteady over his weak body. Then he was there...

Running up those familiar steps, his footsteps echoing in his brain... he had to find her. That red door, sat like the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, he knew what was coming... yet he couldn't stop himself. There she was, an angel with a halo of blood, her dark eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. When he ducked to touch his fingertip to her nose so cold, he felt something heavy and metal in his hand... when he glanced down he realized what it was... the gun, his trigger finger twitching lightly...

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"Wake up Wood!" she screamed at the restless figure lying in a mass of tangled blankets and IV tubes. His forehead caked in salty sweat and his hair mussed from the struggle he was fighting with his own mind.

Woody's eyes shot open as he looked around frantically, when his cerulean eyes came to rest on her he calmed, relaxing his muscles and lifting a weak arm to caress her silky cheek with his rough and callous hand.

"J-Jordan." He whispered, looking at her with the tender eyes she knew so well. She pressed a kiss into his palm.

"I come baring good news..." she said, careful of how she spoke, she wanted to tell him something good, something he desperately needed.

"Eddie Winslow went by Jennifer O'Brian's apartment; they found the files exposing the entire Boston Ring... Its over." She wiped down his face with her sleeve. "Chief Haralson will be forced into resignation... you did it, you won... its over." She repeated the last words 'its over.' Hoping it would catch in his mind.

"N-No, this will never be over..." he whispered, "I-I will A-Always b-be known as the W-whistleblower." He said as if trying to convince himself that he had done the wrong thing.

"You know Woody, at the end of the day no one really cares." Jordan whispered in his ear, stroking his forehead. "I brought Doctor Stiles with me... he wants to have a chat."

Woody smiled threw chapped lips. "Great... I'm going to get a forty minute lecture from Princess Sensitivity." He joked, she chuckled and stood. "Wait! Where are you going?" he asked, sitting up, anxious.

"Don't worry." She said a pathetic attempt to be brave. "I'm right outside, and you just holler if you need me okay, I'm reachable." Jordan kissed the top of his head before handing him off to Howard.

As she brushed by the stocky doctor, he clutched her arm.

"Don't worry Jordan." He whispered in her ear, leaving her somewhat stunned, she stumbled out to the doorway, and just as the heavy door slammed shut behind her, she heard Howard's voice as he tried to lighten the mood.

"Hey I resent that Princess Sensitivity comment!" As she looked around the desolate hallway, she felt the bitter bite of loneliness, she slumped into a chair, the chair she had recently occupied that morning, and brought her knees to her chest. She felt so alone.


	17. Paint by number dreams

Note: This is the first of the last four chapters!

"I resent that Princess Sensitivity comment!" Doctor Stiles joked as he closed the door behind Jordan, he could almost feel her eyes burning holes in the door. For a hospital room it looked pretty descent, except the wallpaper that looked as if someone puked mauve all over it.

Woody looked awful, his cheeks were pale, his eyes inane and sunken. His hands shook, he no longer looked like the sweet but slightly cocky detective from Kewaunee, he looked like a worn veteran, on the edge.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Howard asked, rubbing his head with the palm of his hand.

"Aren't you the shrink, you ask the questions I answer." Woody slowly turned to face him, wincing in pain as his body shifted.

"Okay then, you want to talk about what you were feeling when the whole Malden thing reared its ugly head?" Suddenly Woody's vacant eyes darkened, like a storm over a ocean.

"How do you think I felt?" Woody snapped, his head hurt, his mouth was like wool and the light bite angrily at the back of his eyes. The sun was peeking over the horizon, sending shafts of robin's egg blue and pink threw the sky, as the sun bled seven different shades of orange.

"Alas, I don't know the answer to that ... only you do."

Woody just wanted to make it all go away, erase the past few days and start over. "I felt... god, I'm not sure how to describe it... low."

"Why?"

"Jordan... I wanted to help her, but she pushed me away." His voice quivered, as his thoughts gathered and raced threw his mind at top speed, never giving him a moment to process them. "I was cool with it, all the teasing, the hanging out... but after a while it felt like we were only doing it out of sheer numbness." His voice softened as if savoring each memory of them going to baseball games, and watching movies on the couch, a bowl of stale popcorn in between them.

"And what about when she was kidnapped?" Doctor Stiles asked, not looking up from his trusty yellow legal pad, he didn't look up so he didn't see the look of pain that flushed Woody's face.

"I have never felt fear like that... ever." Woody murmured, his heart pounding in his chest as the feeling of fear raised back into his throat, tightening, his hands suddenly gripped the bedrails.

"One second she was there, and the next she wasn't... I was supposed to watch her, protect her... and I didn't do that."

"I have to say Woody... you have no manner of luck at all." Howard stated matter-of-factly.

"Gee thanks Doc." Woody bit out sarcastically.

"I mean it, dear god, first your ex girlfriends dad is thrown out of a moving plane... then the whole Malden incident, then Jordan, well she tried to off herself, then she gets kidnapped, and to top it all off, this happens." He clucked his tongue and shook his head in a sympathetic manner. "As I said, absolutely no luck at all."

"How in the hell do you know about my ex girlfriends dad?" Woody asked, appalled.

"Rumors spread fast around here... very little amusements." Howard continued scribbling on his notepad. "What about the dreams?" Boy, Woody thought, when he gets down to a point, he gets down to a point.

"I have this dream; it's different every time..." he swallowed hard, remembering each little detail, all the way down to the red smudge on Jordan's face. "I'm running up the stairs, I'm running up the stairs because I hear a gunshot and the elevator is..." his voice trailed off slowly, as he swallowed, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"All I can think the whole time is she's going to die, and it'll be all my fault... and when I open the door." A lone tear found its way down his smooth cheek, his eyes were bright with thought.

"What happens when you open the door?" Howard asked, perking up suddenly.

"She's on the floor, crimson all around her... it makes her face look so white, her eyes just stare up. And theirs always someone standing over her... mostly its Max... but once it was me." His voice shook now, Howard had to look at him with a new admiration, He was in a strange town, with people he barely new, and he made a life for himself... he made himself into someone new, and he fell in love, with someone who loved him back.

"And it keeps me awake..." Woody whispered as an afterthought.

When Doctor Stiles emerged from the hospital room, Jordan was waiting on a chair just outside, a new worry line seemed to appear since the time he last saw her.

"How is he?" she asked, standing, her eyes glazed with worry.

"He's guilt ridden, for everything, Malden, the whole Kidnapping ordeal, you trying to... well you know... all of this in his mind, is his fault... I'm also seeing the beginning signs of Post traumatic stress disorder... he'll be okay, in time." He saw the way Jordan's face crumpled. "You have to help him, he can't and won't do it alone." Jordan nodded, and quickly shook the stunned look off her face. "He'll be getting sleeping pills when he gets out of the hospital, make sure he takes them." He patted her on the elbow gently as he turned to leave. "Oh and Jordan... he really loves you, be careful."

She smiled as she watched him walk out to his car. It was all overwhelming, before it had been a steady stream of one night stands and drunken affairs, nothing too big, all kept her from getting too close to anyone, everything was a neat and tidy package... and she never got hurt.

But then she met Woody, he was different, sweet, and he cared, which was worth a lot in Jordan's book. He never asked her for anything, he never pushed or prodded, he just waited. Hoping in time that she would feel something in her soul that would let her know that he would never hurt or abandon her, he would never make her do anything... he would never even dream of change anything about her, not a hair on her head. And like a spooked horse she slowly came around... with a lot of soft coaxing she came to realize, she needed him as much as he needed her.

Her hand paused on the doorknob; she knew what she'd find when she opened it. He would be pale and weak, a tangle of tubes and wires, but he was her Woody, and he'd be okay, he was as stubborn and as neglected as her. She smiled faintly and opened the door, she was astonished at him, he was sitting up, for the first time in days, he didn't look like a china doll. When he saw her, a small smile tugged at his lips, and then it grew as it broadened across his features.

"Hi." She whispered, raising a small hand, before her courage could flee. "I'm sorry Woody, for everything."

His smile was still glued to his face "For what baby?" he asked, grabbing at the corner of her coat, that was the only thing he could reach, he pulled her toward him, until she was standing at the side of the bed, looking down at him with her whiskey eyes.

Suddenly her eyes grew serious as she knelt down on the bed. "Woody, I'm sorry about what I said to you at the restaurant... about not knowing you."

Woody started to shake his head, but she gave him a glare that quickly silenced him. "I had no right to do that, I do know you... you're my Woody."

He was watching her with his intense, frosty blue eyes, his smile had slipped away. "Jordan, you were right... I was empty, I couldn't sleep or eat, It took this to realize I really did change... Listen, when I look at you, from now on, I don't know who you'll picture, I'm hoping you'll know that it's me." He was holding her hand, his thumb stroking her fingers softly, she smiled as she watched his eyes close, as he went off somewhere else, for the first time in weeks, he could fall asleep without fear.

She stayed behind, long after he was dreaming in paradise, just playing with the tips of his hair. Watching his face, as he slept for what seemed the first time in weeks. His hand still clutching hers, he would squeeze softly every once in a while as if assuring himself she was still there.

Slowly, after what seemed hours she got up, kissing him on the forehead, she leisurely walked to her car, the day had come creeping on, slowly, the sun had risen, and the sky turned blue as the clouds parted and drifted away, leaving only cold snow as a testimony that it had screamed its rage out on the earth.

As she opened the door to her apartment, she was greeted by a bounding ball of fluff; she knelt down and rubbed it, just as Woody was stroking her hand only about an hour ago. "Hey Bud, you hungry?" she asked as she set her keys down with a plunk next to her purse on the door side table. Just as she pulled the half eaten bag of puppy chow down from the cupboard above her sink, she noticed it, his work suit jacket, sitting discarded on a dining room chair; she set a bowl of food down on the floor, as the pup bounded over to gulp down the food hungrily.

She walked over to the jacket, walking slowly as if frightened that it would spook. She lifted it, careful not to wrinkle it, holding it by the shoulders. She wrapped around her shoulders, slipping her arms threw the armholes, she beamed, it was loose on her, the arms fell past her hands, and it hung loose. It smelled like him, like soap and musky cologne. Pulling the folds of fabric close to her as she stared out the window, sitting on the windowsill she watched the world pass by, people going on with their lives, far below her apartment window.


	18. On the way down

Note: I lied, I may have a few more chapters, I just feel like it. Humor me.

A/N: I know nothing really happened, but I thought I should update... they'll be more going on next chapter

Woody shifted uncomfortably in the leather seats, Jordan tried to keep her eyes on the road, but found herself looking at his side, though it was covered in his green polo shirt.

"You know, it's my experience as a doctor that if you stop moving around, it will hurt less." She muttered, pulling up to her apartment building.

"You don't count, you cut up dead people." He stated, wincing as he twisted in pain.

"I've never heard any complaints." She joked, mussing his hair with a free hand.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his bag, and stood; Jordan gathered her things, car keys and purse. As she climbed out of the SUV, he was almost to the door.

"Woody, let me help you with that." She demanded, running to catch up with him. The cold January morning dawned bright and beautiful, though the air hung thick with the smell of day old snow.

"I have very little dignity left Jo; I'm going to walk in here if it's the last thing I do." He muttered stubbornly.

"Fine have it your way you stubborn ass." She retorted, grabbing his hand to help him into the apartment building.

"Jordan." He whispered softly, he left her side; she could only stare at him as he moved towards the corner of the sidewalk. He knelt down onto the icy slick sidewalk, his fingers moving slowly down a crack in the cement. He remembered little of that night, just small freeze frames, locked away. Jordan hoped to keep it that way, she didn't think he would want to relive it, and she knew she didn't want to.

"What happened?" there was no evidence of anything happening; there was no blood, nothing he was trained to look for... just ice and snow.

Her pause said everything she couldn't, he looked up at her, with those blue eyes, and she melted. "Woody, please don't make me go through it again." She begged her high heel boots clicked on the ice as she walked slowly to him. He smiled, he could see her breath, each silvery puff that escaped her lips; he also saw the way that the cold bit at her nose, leaving it red and raw looking. "Lets just go inside please." She extended a gloved hand. He waited, at first she thought he wasn't going to take it, but after a long, excruciating second, he wrapped his hand around hers and allowed her to help him to the elevator.

Woody collapsed in a heap on her futon, propping his feet on the coffee table. Jordan was in the kitchen, the lights way down low unloading groceries from the night before.

He could only watch the way she stood, the way she put the boxes and cans of food away, propping a foot up because she couldn't quite reach the top shelf.

"Need any help?" he asked, smiling as a stubborn tress of hair fell into her eyes.

"Nah, honey I got it, you just rest."

"O-Kay if you say so." He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV. Nothing special, For love or money, Fear Factor, a rerun of Happy days. "Do you remember when we used to watch anything?" he asked to no one in particular. "We would watch a talking horse, or a flying nun, nope! Now we're watching people eat bugs and marry for money." Jordan laughed, a full throated, child like laugh, something she hadn't done in a long time.

"Stop hogging the remote." She teased, "And get your feet off of the coffee table!" she pushed his feet off playfully as she past by.

"Guess the honeymoons over." He mumbled with a mock hurt look glued to his face, reaching for the bowl of chips in her hand. She smacked it away.

"What are we watching?" she asked, flopping on the couch next to him, snuggling close for warmth and security.

"Well." Woody stated, flipping the channel to TV guide. "We have a fine selection tonight, We have a TV movie sob story... A Sylvester Stallone movie... or Oprah." He announced, shifting uncomfortably. After a moment he added "Please don't pick Oprah."

Four hours later, Jordan was eating chips watching a lifetime moving, as Woody slept peacefully in the corner. Those pain med's do the trick. She thought as she stood, clearing her beer bottles, and lifting a sleeping dog from her lap. She had failed to name the pooch, just settled on calling him Bud, she was glad that Woody got him for her... he was good company on the lonely nights Woody lay in the hospital.

It was almost ten, and night had settled on the city, it almost instantly lit up, and filled with life, as people bustled to there way somewhere, anywhere. Every once in a while Woody would roll or toss, clawing at anything, he would whisper her name over and over. Her hand would gently rub his forehead, pushing his hair away from his face, the second her cool hand would hit his feverish, clammy skin he would instantaneously calm, and return to his peaceful sleep. It was remaindering Jordan that while this whole ordeal had quieted and was dying it wasn't completely over.

Cal was coming to stay with Woody for the next couple of days, to watch him while she was at work. Hopefully they wouldn't wreak havoc on too many, while she had never met him; she had heard horror stories about the two when they got together from Jax. Even after all this time, all the fighting, the fear and the courage that she had seen in those eyes, those baby blue eyes, she still saw him as Woody.... While he had changed, deep down he was the detective she had met, what seemed ages ago.

She watched him sleep the dog tags she had once held in her hand, hung from his neck. All the lights out, the TV on mute, his face looked so calm. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before turning off the TV, draping a blanket across his sleeping frame, and stumbling tiredly to her own bed.


	19. Ordinary Day

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan, like you guys weren't expecting that! Oh, and I don't own the lyric's to 'Ordinary Day' by Vanessa Carlton either

Note: I'd like to thank a few people: Tracey, for being my beta reader and a super cool friend, and my best friends in the entire world, Jessica Buntt, Rachelle Middaugh, Emily Switzer, Marina Marvitch, Jesse Brummet and Chelsea Nielsen, they're always giving me something new to write. Last but not least, I'd like thank my mom, for always having a smile on her face, even through bad times.

Just a day, an ordinary day

Just trying to get by

Just a boy, just an ordinary boy

But he was looking to the sky

And as he asked if I would come along

I started to realize

That every day he finds just what he's looking for

Like a shooting star, he shines

And he says, take my hand

Live while you can

Don't you feel the dreams?

I ride in the palm of your hand

And as he spoke he spoke ordinary words

Though they did not feel

For I felt what I had not felt before

I swear those words could heal

As I looked up into those eyes

His vision bore all his mind

And to know he's no stranger,

For I feel I've held him for all of time

And he said, take my hand

Live while you can

Don't you feel the dreams?

I ride in the palm of your hand

Please come with me

See what I see

Touch the stars

For, time will not wait

Time will not wait

Can't you see?

Just a dream, just an ordinary dream

As I wake in bed

And that boy, that ordinary boy

Was all in my head

Did he ask if I would come along it all seemed so real

But as I looked to the door I saw that boy standing there with a deal

And he said

Take my hand,

Live while you can

Can you feel the dreams?

I ride in the palm of your hand

Just a day, just an ordinary day

Just trying to get by

Just a boy, just an ordinary boy

But he was looking to the sky.

Jordan flicked the radio station idly after the song finished as she made her way down the expressway, weaving through traffic. Woody held onto partition for his life.

"Dear god Jordan Slow down!" he yelled at her, as she barely missed a white Mazda when she changed lanes.

"I'm not speeded!" she countered, she had to chuckle when she saw how white his knuckles were.

"If we live through this, you're never driving with me again!" he said sharply, as she turned off into the off ramp at the last second, narrowly missing a yellow SUV, soon came a blare of a horn, Jordan slammed her fist against her own horn, Woody jumped he was now almost standing in his seat, his back pressed against the window "God, I know I don't talk to you much since the whole thing with my cousin Nick, but please.... Please let us live." He prayed, or pleaded, either one. Jordan gave a full throated laugh. "You think I'm kidding." Woody retorted to her laugh, "I'm serious, WHO THE HELL GAVE YOU YOUR DRIVERS LICENSE!!!!" he screamed as she sped past a yellow light before it turned red. "Oh I think I'm gonna be sick." He whispered, settling into his seat, shifting to the side that didn't have a hole in it.

She pulled into a unoccupied area out front of the airport, slamming on her brakes, and pulling the parking brake in the same instance. Woody suddenly pounced on her, pulling the keys from the ignition.

"That's it! I'm Driving!" he screamed, still breathing heavily

"Woody." She said in a solicitous tone "you can't drive, your on muscle relaxants, antibiotic's and a little thing called pain killers." He groaned, but before he could get a smart retort in, he heard someone slam their fist on the hood.

"Woody, you're girlfriend drives like a crazy person!" he announced happily, climbing into the backseat, throwing his knapsack in the back.

"Hey, I'm Jordan."

"Finally, I'm Cal, Woody's younger brother." He reached over and ruffled Woody's hair good naturedly, Woody jerked back, pulling on his stitches. "Awe," he let out a small cry and squirmed to find a spot that didn't irritate his side.

"So Woody talk about me a lot?"

"You're all he talks about." Cal stated, Jordan gave him a knowing glance as Woody shyly looked out the window.

"I wish I could say the same for you." Jordan said as she pulled the car out of the parking space. Cal and Woody both grabbed a hold of the passenger side seat as the car jerked the sped up.

An hour later Jordan pulled up to her apartment building, small bits of muddy snow lay on the sidewalk. "Remember, he's not that stable yet... don't let him walk around a lot, and don't no matter the circumstance ever let him run." Jordan demanded as Woody rolled out of his seat, Cal got up and held his arm for support.

"Sure thing Mrs. C," he mocked. "And he'll be tucked in by eight thirty."

"I mean it!" she shouted as she pulled away, leaving behind nothing to indicate she had ever been there. Leaving Woody to only stare at the departing car, wishing she was by his side.

"Come on Princess!" Cal said, prodding into Woody's thoughts of Jordan.

"So she's a hot number." Cal muttered

"Don't even think about it Cal!" Woody scolded, jabbing a index finger at his brother.

"Okay." He said offhandedly, but still had that gleam in his eye.

"I'm serious Cal!" Woody stated.

"Whatever, I wouldn't dream of ever touching one of your girls, especially after you dumped Annie." Cal stated, as they made their way to the elevator of Jordan's apartment building.

"I did not DUMP Annie, it was a misunderstanding." Woody clarified.

"Keep telling yourself that Bud." Cal said patting Woody on the chest sympathetically. "So what do you want to do first, Watch the Badgers on TV, or prank call McDonalds?" he asked.

"Why the hell did I get stuck with you as a brother? Is this a cruel joke? What do I look like... wait don't answer that." Calvin chuckled, his chuckle turned to a deep throated laugh.

"I serious don't answer that." Cal all but through Woody down on Jordan's futon/couch.

"I like it." Cal stated, taking a sweeping glance of the room. "Homey."

Back at the morgue, Jordan was well aware that she was late... very late, and she knew that as soon as those elevator doors opened, Garret would be standing there, waiting, leaning against the receptionist's desk, eyes fixed on his watch. 'Where have you been Jo, we're swamped' she could almost hear him say.

But when the doors parted, he was standing there, instead of the look of pure annoyance; a smile was plastered on his face.

"So?" he asked expectantly

"So what?" she through him a puzzled look, and grabbed her messages from Emmy. She was now juggling her messages, files, purse and a cup of lukewarm coffee.

"How's Woody?" he asked, grabbing the cup of coffee and files from her right hand, a attempt to lighten her load.

"He's better, weak, but starting to go back to the same good ole' Woody we all know and loved... I almost killed him this morning on the expressway." Garret chuckled, giving her a nervous smile.

"Why does that not surprise me? Anyways, I need you in autopsy three, some wacko got drunk and took a tumble off a cliff, thought you might want to take a look at it."

"Gee thanks Garret be there in five." She said as the door closed behind her. Not two minutes later, five figures filled the doorway. Nigel, Bug, Lily, Peter and Devan. The fearsome five.

"Hello Love," Nigel announced in his usual cheery way.

"How's Wood?" Lily asked in a concerned voice.

"He's okay... better." Jordan amended, smiling at her friends.

"Tell him we all miss him." Devan said in more a question form than a demand.

"Will do." Jordan said, dismissing her friends, they all moved on, finding wherever they supposed to be.

When the room emptied, it suddenly seemed so small to Jordan she felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs, she felt this gnawing worry eat away at her stomach, she forced herself not to pick up the phone to call Woody. She sighed and picked up the file in the basket set precariously on her messy desk. It was going to be a long day without Woody.


	20. Thoughtless words

Note: 2 more chapters after this, we're almost finished, R&R y'all I wanna know what you think!

Woody sighed as he sat on the futon, fiddling with the dog tags around his neck lazily. Cal was fast asleep on the floor, snoring deafeningly. Woody rolled his eyes and flipped threw channels quickly. His side hurt, that was an understatement, it felt like someone had slashed him with a machete. He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable area.

The phone screamed, startling him.

"Answer it Wood." Cal called sleepily, rolling over on his back.

"Yeah, this is the Cavanaugh residence." He muttered, his voice bogged down partly from sleepiness partly from being doped up.

"Hey," he breathed out when he heard Jordan's voice on the other end, he could almost smell her sweet perfume, and taste her peach lip gloss.

"Hey yourself." He said softly as he felt that familiar silly grin rising on his face.

"You resting?" she asked concerned, his grin grew.

"Yeah, Calvin is out on floor, snuck some Excedrin PM into his hot chocolate, went down like a sack of potatoes." Woody joked, feeling a bit lonely at that second, and then he realized she was all he had in Boston; Kewaunee seemed so far away... Cal would be gone soon, then he had Jordan, and that was all. But the feeling wasn't sad, he felt excited, and reborn... he could make a life with Jordan, he could see himself, old and gray... with her by his side, because when she was next to him, it all seemed bearable.

"Hey you wanna get hitched?" he asked without thinking, he immediately bit his lip... he almost died right there, he couldn't believe he had just said that. It had just escaped his lips, like water threw his hands, he was surprised at how easily it came, and with Annie it had taken weeks of thinking things through before he could ask permission for her hand.

The silence was inevitable, and he hadn't known he was on speakerphone until he heard A British voice in the background "Sweet Mary Mother of Jesus!" , he could almost see Nigel's lanky figure frozen staring at the phone, eagerly awaiting someone to speak so he could quickly pass on the gossip and gory details to the nearest person that would listen.

Jordan was silent, thoughts coursing threw her mind, racing wildly, passing before she could register them. She was stunned.

"That was unexpected." She said, her voice catching, hoarse with disbelief.

"Jordan, I'm sorry, that was a mistake I didn't even mean to..." he stumbled over his words not sure to say, only worried he might lose her.

"Whoa, now you're taking it back?!" she exclaimed, playing with his head a little.

"NO! No, it's just..." his voice trailed off, the lump in his throat about the size of a grapefruit, he struggled to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

Pretty soon he could hear background voices, Lily and Devan, they asked what was happening, Nigel explained the little 'situation' with them, he heard Lily exclaim

"You gotta be shittin' me!" and by now, he bet the entire morgue was listening, especially after Lily cursed.

"Uh, Woody, I , uh..." she shifted uncomfortably in seat, the vinyl seemed to stick to her jean legs, she couldn't breath, this was a dangerous situation, she had to get out. But to Jordan's surprise, it was Woody that made the first move for the exit.

"I... gotta... I gotta go Jo, I'll talk to you later, okay... I love you, bye." She couldn't get a word in edgewise.

Just before it grew silent on the other side of the line, just before he heard the line go dead, he could hear Nigel's thick brogue. "WHAT... NO!"

Woody felt anxiety course threw his veins, something dark and heavy. He needed something... anything, something to calm the fear rising in his throat. He hobbled over to his bag and fumbled threw it.

"What are you doing?" Cal asked hazily, sitting up, he had slept threw the entire ordeal, Woody was now frantic for his Prozac... searching desperately threw the clothes and medicine bottles till he found the right one.

Damned childproof lids, he thought to himself as he battled with the lid. Cal stood and grabbed the bottle from Woody. Only, Woody wouldn't go down that easy, his hands didn't let go of the slippery bottle. Cal tugged harder, Woody tugged back, and soon they were fighting each other with all of their strength.

"Give me the bottle Woody!" Cal shouted as he finally forced the small green bottle from Woody's sweaty hands. Woody collapsed on the couch again, in defeat; he couldn't believe he had just said that to Jordan Cavanaugh.

"What the hell is the matter with you; Mom said you were normal yesterday." Cal stated, sitting next to Woody, who collapsed, and hung down his head, rubbing a palm into his hot forehead.

"I just..." here Woody chuckled, more out of malice for himself than anything. "I just asked Jordan 'Commitment issues' Cavanaugh to marry me." The bottle slipped from Calvin's hands as they went limp from shock.

"You did what?" he asked, looking at Woody with this astonished glaze over his blue eyes.

"I have to go make this right," Woody whispered, trying to stand, but he stumbled, and fell back onto the couch. Cal perked, he saw the glassy look in Woody's Indigo eyes, and the way sweat had begun to pour off of him.

"Woody bro, you don't look right... maybe we should take you back to the doctor." He said, truly concerned, Woody looked so colorless, except the heat he could see in his cheeks; it seemed to sear his cheeks.

"I'm fine." Woody snapped, he reminded himself to apologize to Cal after a good amount of time, he felt bad for being so short with his younger brother. "Just," a shutter went threw him. "Get me a blanket and a cool washrag." He asked in a softer voice, laying on the futon, for just a moment, he just needed to rest... a little, then he would go see Jordan, he couldn't loose her.

Cal returned, with a cool rag and a thin, afghan blanket. He wrapped Woody up in the blanket and placed the rag on Woody's head. Cal suddenly felt fear, he hadn't felt fear for his brother like this, When he was shot it was different, he was worried, but he was so far away, he didn't see it therefore it wasn't real. Slowly he backed to the phone and dialed Jordan's number... and waited for her to answer.


	21. Somethings never change

Note: Bet you weren't expecting THAT! Ha-ha, okay well this one, then the last one and that's it.

Woody threw down the rag from his forehead, he tossed and turned restlessly. Cal nervously hit the speed dial. When she picked up the phone, her voice sounded weary.

"Cavanaugh." She answered; He could hear a British man laughing in soft tones, joking with someone.

"Jordan... its Cal." Her heart fell, his voice was so low; she could hear the fear that laced the edges of every word, immediately her chin began to quiver.

"What happened?!" she snapped, shooting up from her seat at her desk. All was quiet on the other line. Cal could no longer hear the happy chortles of that British man.

"His fever is 102, I just took it, I'm trying to talk him into going to the hospital... but he won't go." Cal's voice pleaded with her, asking her to do something, anything.

"Put him on..." after a moment, she could hear Woody arguing with Cal, his voice soft, and yet groggy. What had happened? He was fine when she left for work this morning, he was resting... watching TV, he ate some tomato soup. Somehow as she retracted her memory, trying to remember everything down to what he wore to bed the night before... the way he smiled, they way his hair smelled, for some reason... she committed these to memory for fear one day they would be gone.

"Hello?" Woody whispered his voice dazed and confused.

"Woody baby, you need to get in the car with Cal." She could almost see him shaking his head like a troublesome kid.

"No," he whispered, in all childlikeness. Cal listened to his brother whisper to Jordan, his voice so soft, and almost scared, he shut his eyes and tried to will that weakness away.

"Woody, don't be stubborn... go with Cal." Her voice was slowly rising; she was becoming angry with him.

"No." he repeated mulishly, she could almost lower his head in stubbornness.

"WOODROW HOYT, GET YOUR HICK ASS IN THAT CAR!!" she screamed at him, letting out all of the pent up fear and anger out, she felt a solitary hot tear slipping from behind her eyes.

There was a long pause, like he was stunned she would yell at him in that manner. After a long, indefinable amount of time his voice came back. "No, I don't want to go back to those doctors."

"Woodrow Hoyt... you will go to the hospital, whether I have to put you that car, or you get in on your own, one is easier than the other." Her tone was firm but she was no longer yelling.

"O-Kay," he whispered after a long time, then Cal came back... his voice quivered only slightly.

"I'll meet you at Boston General Emergency room." He said, looking over at his brother who had laid down on the couch and had covered himself with the afghan... and curled up like a child.

"Oh, and Jordan..." he added as an afterthought "Hurry."

Nigel was staring at Jordan, she didn't move, she just looked straight ahead, for moments that seemed centuries. After the initial shock wore down, she was searching around frantically, looking for her purse and car keys.

"Where the fuck are my keys!" she screamed as she looked threw her desk, tears running down her face.

"Love, what's the matter, where is Woodrow?" he asked, truly concerned, Lily and Devan both stood speechless, as Jordan ran out of the office, as fast as she could and even that wasn't fast enough. She slid on the slick linoleum floor, but quickly regained herself, they could only watch as her figure ran down the hall towards the elevator.

Jordan wasn't even breathing, all she could think was Milk, eggs, butter, ice cream, laundry detergent, and she tried to remember her shopping list. Then it hit her, he asked her to marry him... really... and for the first time with Woody, she didn't feel safe, now he was going back to the hospital, not ten minutes later. She pressed the buttons frantically, as she descended from the morgue, Like the chariot bound for hell.

The hospital was lit up like a Christmas tree, all the decorations were taken down, not like the night he was shot, it was cold and dark inside. A stray Florissant light flickered dimly down the hall.

"I'm looking for Woody Hoyt's room." She asked the nurse at the front desk, her eyes pleading for anyone to tell her what was happening.

"Are you his wife?" she asked in an almost condescending tone.

"No," Jordan said on impulse "I'm his fiancée." She couldn't believe what she had said, but it wasn't exactly a lie, was it?

The small redheaded pointed to room 1708; just as she did Cal stepped out.

"Cal!" she screamed running towards him at top speed.

"Jordan, he's okay, apparently he had a reaction to his medicine, they're keeping him over night for observation... he can come home tomorrow." Cal patted her gently on the shoulder and walked to the nearest chair.

Slowly, deliberately she stood out front of the room, in that cold hallway, just thinking. She thought of the last three years, with Woody by her side, never asking for her to be anyone but herself. He was so close, just past that doorway, and somehow she couldn't bring herself to come in. She felt different with him, different from anything she had ever felt. She got these butterflies in her stomach every time she heard his voice what were these feelings, was it love? She reached her hand out, touching the wood of the doorway with her willowy fingers, tears falling down her face. She hadn't trained herself to deal with emotions like these; after wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her gauzy top, and saying a soft prayer, asking God to keep her feet from running, and to keep her heart in one piece.

She picked up her feet, one by one, baby steps; she managed to make her way to the door. Thunder cracked in the distance, so far away, prophecy to the storm that was not so far off. He was asleep, much like the night he was shot. His clear eyes were closed, and his breathing even. She came over to his bed, sitting next to him softly, pushing back his hair from his skin, her hands like ice against his forehead.

"What on earth are you doing woman?" Woody asked, his chapped lips widening into a smile. She jumped, startled by his soft voice.

"Watching you sleep." She whispered, stroking his cheek with her thumb. He was still feverish; she could feel his warm sweat dampening her hand.

"I wasn't asleep... I was thinking." She tucked her feet onto the bed, he scooted over so she could lay next to him. She wrapped her arm around his neck and rested her cheek on the top of his head, his hair soggy with perspiration.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked, half sure of what his answer would be.

"You." He mumbled softly, he could feel her heartbeat, against his back as he rested against her. "You mostly." He corrected himself, "and Jennifer O'Brian..." he let his eyes close, remembering the promising young cop, so full of life, a life cut short.

"What we're you thinking about her for?" she asked, kissing his forehead.

"Nothing." He whispered, "its not important anymore" he smiled up at her, but she sensed his uneasiness in his eyes, the guilt.

"Woody, I wanted to talk to you." She didn't look him in the eye, staring at a nonexistent dot on the wall, trying to swallow all of the fear, her mind screaming 'Run!' but something made her stay, some force told her that in the end, everything was going to be okay.

"What?" he asked, a small trace of panic made his voice sound grave and thick.

"I was thinking about what you said, earlier today... on the phone."

"Jordan... its okay, that was kind of a spur of the-"his voice was cut off by a delicate finger against his lips.

"I would love to marry you Woody." She whispered slowly, her mind slowing to a stop, after all this was Woody, the same Woody that would save the mango in his fruit salad for her, the same Woody that would sing Yellow Submarine at the top of his lungs just to make her laugh. She loved him, and for the first time she wasn't afraid or running. She loved him, everything, the way his hair smelled, the way she felt when they danced, he made things bearable... all because he saw something in a driven M.E. something worth fighting for.

His breath caught in his throat, for some reason, he couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her sweet lips, he just watched her as she looked in his eyes.

"Why would you want to marry me?" his lips joked, but his eyes were serious.

"Because... Three years ago, when you first saw me... you never pushed, but you were never knocked down by my shoves... you stood back and listened, and you slowly but surely wormed your way into my heart, and like it or not your wedged in there pretty damned tight."

Woody was silent as he listen to her speech, as tears filled her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again quickly.

"What?" she asked softly, holding his hand as he finally found the words to speak.

"You know what I first thought the day I met you, when I was driving home?" he asked, kissing the back of her hand.

"Hmmm" she whispered, waiting for him to answer, something deep and profound.

"God that woman must have terrible taste in ties." She chuckled a little shocked, he smiled as she closed her eyes taking in the smell of sweat and soap from his hair as she rested her cheek on his head.

After a long, comfortable silence, he whispered, all of a sudden scared. "I don't have a ring."

"I don't need a ring Wood, I don't." she reassured him, rubbing his chest in soft soothing circles, lulling him to sleep. And soon she felt the familiar feeling of aching tired tug at her eyes, and she too felt under sleeps spell, next to her soon to be husband, with her soft cheek resting on the top of his head, and her arm draped over his shoulder, they slept completely without fear.

They never noticed the frame of the man standing in the doorway, his body darkened by the bright lights behind him. Listening softly to the voices of his brother and his soon to be sister in law and for only a moment felt a stab of jealously. He desperately wanted to find that one person that one that completes you, Woody had found that after years of pining, it couldn't be that hard could it? He smiled as another crack of thunder racked the sky, maybe it was his time to grow up and find her, maybe she was right in front of him.

He looked around for anyone; the young, pretty redheaded nurse was sitting at the station, filling out paperwork. He slowly wiped his sweaty hands on his pant legs.

"Hey how you doin'" he asked, after all something's never change.

Note: One more after this, please R&R I live off of reviews, got to give me something to gnaw on, I have no life

9


	22. Those City Lights

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan... but I think that you guys already knew that.

Note: YAY! Its over this is the final chapter, I loved writing this story, my favorite by far. So I want to thank everyone who reviewed, and for the people who didn't Review, now, LOL, I kid, I kid.

Three weeks later...

"I'm being chased by a physiatrist!" Woody announced as he came barreling threw the double doors marked crypt. Jordan giggled, as he made a speedy exit into trace evidence, before the doors stopped rocking, he came dashed back in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before racing back inside, she could hear his voice as he tried desperately to hide behind Nigel.

"Say Nige, you got those ballistic I asked for?" he said rather loudly. No sooner had those double doors ceased and had calmed, Doctor Stiles strolled in. Nigel saw the short frame of the doctor and quickly supplied Woody with an understanding alibi.

"Of course I have those prelims for you Woodrow."

"Ballistics'" Woody corrected under his breath.

"Yes those ballistics'." Nigel handed him a file folder, any file folder.

Jordan opened her mouth to speak.

"Save it Jordan, I know your wayward fiancée is in there, I'm waiting." He muttered standing rigidly.

Woody believing our dear Doctor Stiles was out the door, came in, chewing on the inside of his cheek, that man, no matter how much Jordan pushed he couldn't quit.

"Oh, thank you Jo, I thought he was going to actually catch me that time-" Then turning his head mid-sentence caught sight of the short man standing near the doorway; he let out a girlish yelp.

"Doctor Stiles" he said slickly "I was just about to give you a buzz."

"Woody, why don't you join me in the conference room." Woody glared at Jordan; she shrugged her shoulders and returned to the body lying on the cold slab.

Woody took a reluctant seat at the broad table, Doctor Stiles thumped down into the chair across from him. The morning light spilled into the room, casting a buttery glow throughout the room.

"So Woody I hear about Chief Haralson being forced to resign."

"Yeah." Woody muttered softly, he had been trying unsuccessfully for weeks to avoid the inevitable, having to face the fact that he pulled the trigger on the city's biggest corruption scandal.

"How do you feel about that?" Stiles asked, gauging Woody's response.

"Bad..." Woody whispered, his fingers fidgeting nervously against the cool wood of the table. "Bad." He repeated.

"Why?" Howard shifted in his chair.

"Because."

"Now Woodrow, because isn't an answer and you know it." Woody smiled sadly, refusing to meet the doctor's eyes.

"She was so young, and she died and I didn't."

"So your guilt ridden." Howard commented

"Nothing gets past you." Woody retorted bitterly.

"Listen Woody, this may not mean much, but, you did the right thing... no one else can get hurt by this... because you had the courage to stand up when no one else would." Those words hit Woody between the eyes, they sounded so familiar.

Later that afternoon, Woody went to the Warf, he leaned against the wooden railing and listened to the sea gulls squeal. He knew why but he didn't want to face it. Images of Jennifer O'Brian, all wrapped up in her black Boston PD sweatshirt and tight fitting jeans, her toffee colored hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Bringing him his coffee as they sat on stakeout, what seemed forever ago.

"You know Hoyt; I have never met a man that eats that much sugar." She announced, climbing into the passenger seat of Woody's car.

"Jennifer, Jennifer, you can never have too much sugar." He preached taking a sip of his coffee, letting the pungent smell of the strong, black liquid sit on the edge of his senses and mix with the smell of fish and salt. Far off the sound of ships making their way in and out of port and the sound of captains yelling out orders to the waiting fisherman hung on the wind.

She stared out the car window, her blue eyes lost as she watched the gulls swoop low and kiss the glassy surface of the sparkling waves.

"Something the matter O'Brian?" she smiled sadly at him, burrowing her hands into the pockets of her worn sweatshirt.

"Have you ever looked where no one else would look? And saw something you would never want to see. But then you knew about it, so you had to do something or else the guilt would drive you insane?" she asked, back then he wasn't sure what she had meant; now he knew all too well.

"Well there was that thing with my cousin Nick..." he joked, but her eyes, they looked so... sorrowful. "What's the matter?" he asked, watching her carefully as a lone tear rolled down her cheek.

"After my first day on the job." She stated, looking down at her scalding cup of coffee, watching the steam rise from the paper cup, the heat burning her hand. "I came home crying, I didn't think I was cut out for it... I got a domestic abuse call, and I just..." she paused collecting herself. "I asked my mom, how could there be so much evil in the world... do you know what she told me?" Woody listened intently to the young cop that in a few short months would be murdered in a cheap hotel; shot to death with her own gun... blood filling her lungs until she could no longer breathe.

"She told me that evil is a strong word, good and evil can't be measured by humans, that, it's on a spectrum... like light." She paused to wipe a crocodile tear from her soft, young cheek. "Not everyone is born in complete darkness, everyone has some light in them, and the light is always worth fighting for... it's the unobserved, overlooked and the unnoticed that are in danger of falling into the darkness. Sometimes the simple act of observing or listening can alter the lives of so many; you just have to look where no one else will..."

Woody sat up from the railing, and smiled, for the first time in weeks. Slowly he reached into his pocket, and pulled the small, green bottle of Prozac from his coat pocket, he could feel the cold metal of his father's dog tags against his collarbone. Turning the bottle over and rubbing his fingers against the cool plastic, took a deep breath and chucked the small bottle into the sea, he simply didn't need them anymore.

Jordan was sitting on the roof of her building, leaned against the rail, her feet dangling down off of the side. She took in a long swig of beer as she listened to the muted sounds of the city. The bright lights glittering as far as the eye could see.

She heard a noise behind her, she knew it was Woody, she could tell just by how far apart the footsteps were.

"Hey Farm boy." She said as he joined her on the ledge of the eleven story building, carrying his own frosted bottle of beer.

"What is it with you and the nicknames?" he asked good naturedly, smiling, a wide, Woody Hoyt smile.

"What's got you in a good mood huh?" she asked, nudging him in the side playfully.

"Let's see..." he scooted closer to her until he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. "I'm getting married to the woman of my dreams... I'm back on duty, and I got a raise."

"Nice to see you again Hoyt, I was beginning to miss the old Woody. How do you feel?"

"Better, I feel... better." Suddenly his smile slipped, as he watched Jordan take a long sip of her beer. She caught him staring at her, she smiled and winked.

"What?" she leaned her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm loosely around his waist.

"I was just remembering what a friend once told me... they told me that... it's the unobserved, the overlooked and the unnoticed that are in danger of falling... that someone can alter so many people's lives... just by looking where no one else will."

Her head rose up, he smiled as her forehead rested against his, she wanted to kiss him, but her lips remained only a few inches away.

"Come on... come on... come on..." he pleaded under his breath as her lips finally brushed against his. He pulled her closer to him, deeping the kiss and on cue, just as he did, both of their cell phones began screaming.

"Cavanaugh." She announced, out of breath.

A second later Woody answered his, he was still feeling weak in the knees.

"Hoyt."

She spoke to Garret a few seconds later, trying to hurry, when her cell phone was shut she turned to her soon to be husband.

"Let me guess, the murder on Holiday and Congress?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yep."

"Garret told me the body is in pieces." She said as they began to stumble for the door, leaving their bottles of beer behind.

"Oh, fun... an Easter egg hunt!" he joked happily as the heavy metal door swung closed behind them... leaving the roof silent, as the stars blinked happily above.

End.

Note: Hope you liked it! Because it was hard to write. Love, Jenna


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